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daytime outing

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ephidryn Jul 04, 2002 13:12 Read 217 times, Dig?
I woke up at 5:30 this morning. I drink too much. Sharon died last month. I never really knew her but my friend Sarah worked for her. They had a falling out and Sarah moved to San Jose. I laid in bed for an hour hoping I would fall back asleep. My Grandma died Tuesday. I never really knew her either. I couldn't sleep. I got up, took a shower and walked to the white raven. I thought about taking the bus downtown and going to the bookshop then I realized that there was no bus service today and americans are fat. I got some coffee and read the psychic nursery rhyme about the previous night. Why was I alone when I woke up? I started walking south on hwy 9 with my thumb up in the air. I learned to hitch-hike when I was little. My friend tought me to hold my thumb up high, puff out your chest a little and crack a small smile. A big smile scares people... they wonder whats going on in your fat perverted head and breeze right by you. The redwoods made that smell like they're trying to make more redwoods. A man dressed in white stopped his white car and smiled. He was listening to something that sounded like campfire jesus music. We spoke of far away places and marijuana.

He dropped me at the clocktower, 8am, and I walked down the street to the bookshop. There weren't any people really, cept for the normal crazies. I thought I might have a bagel first so I crossed over and headed to the bagel place by the theater. To my horror was my icon of despair. He was the sysop of the first bbs that I ever logged into, "The Digital Nebula". He was doing well when the dotcom monkeys had enough to waste a paycheck on his VB loving ass. Turns out the fella wasn't really that sharp. He lost his job, grew a beard, shaved his head, and went go go nuts on pacific. Now everytime I see him I feel bad for him. He recognizes me. I talk to him sometimes, but he's bent and it's really uncomfortable.

He was standing there, in front of my breakfast destination handing out those little paper cranes that you can oragami and string up to make people feel better. He was particularly interested in giving a crane to this one girl. I saw my B line and took it, right behind him kinda holding my hand over my face the whole time. fuck.

I kept stepping and decided on the Bagelry as a safer alternative. I walked on down the street and noticed that the Del Mar is back, someone bought it and turned it into a theater again. I felt a little odd not even knowing about it. A little faded. Just on the corner there was an art exhibit in the old Cat and Canary building. I recalled reading about it in one of the free local periodicals, something about a nomadic art show called something about putty in screw holes. The exhibits were mostly spines made from wires and lace. There were shirts hanging up there too, I'm not sure which were actually art and what was just laundry. I got to the last peice and noticed a dead pigeon on the floor inbetween the window and the spine. For a moment I wondered if it was some avante guard statement, then I realized it prolly just flew in there when the doors were open and starved to death yearning to be on the other side of the glass.

I continued towards my bagel. I got poppy seed with cream cheese from deedee. She couldn't remember my name, but she new it started with a 'G'.

One bagel later I went back up the street to the bookshop. An old friend said to think of him while I was walking up and down pacific avenue over and over. I figured now was as good as any time for that, so I did.

The books were there, comforting, pretty, aromatic, and full of promise. I dove right in and grabbed my favorite. I cracked it open standing up and took steps to get out of peoples way as I was reading. About five minutes into it I heard this loud crash come from the ceiling. I was certain that something had broken or fallen, but a quick glance around proved everything to be sane. I went back to my reading and stepping for a while only to be interrupted again by the same noise 5 or so minutes later. I looked up again, nothing. It kept happening like that and soon I realized that no one else was looking around like I was. I wondered if the sounds was real or if it was some freaky halucenation.

I decided it was better that I didn't find out. I got the fuck out and walked towards the beach down pacific again. I walked all the way to the end and kept going, up over beach hill and out onto the wharf. There were pantloads of people all at the beach and walking all over the wharf. It was 10am by now and everyone wanted to get thier 4th of July on. The Newspaper showed "Bush is money hungry bastard", "PacBell screwed everyone and the state wants a cut", and "Nothings really gonna happen but terror sells papers". The radio talked about the 4th of July and the fat americans fished and ate.

I walked back towards mountains. Hwy 9 seemed so far from the Wharf. There were a few kids playing in a new skate park. They weren't very good. My little sister is gone. I kept looking for her. Staring at kids that looked homeless or fucked up.

There were two my the big theater. "Whoo! I think it's starting to hit me now." they were all bent over smiling and laughing. I remember when I took acid and fried my fucking brains out in Louden Nelson Center park one Fourth of July. I could smell bbq's as I left pacific and I started to hitch hike before I even got to 9. Some guy picked me up just past Salz. We had nice chat about the inefficiency in government. People like to know the answers to questions that you ask. They will tell you what to ask if you listen very closely. Perhaps people just like to be listened to. I know I do.
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Comments from other users:

  • "ephidryn should have a blogger, and write all this shit down every day. damnit. BLOG BITCH, BLOG" - Schlagzeug
  • "Americans are fat, pigeons die, and, crazies fucking suck!" - AngryDez
This story was written by ephidryn and has been brought you you by the letters X and Q.
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