Seattle. University District. Near ___ Coffee shop, which, sources unanimously claim, is the best in the city. (I don't drink coffee, and it's too hot inside, and my infant nephew needs someone to keep him asleep by walking while my relatives indulge their taste for bitterness - so the drizzling outside is perfect). Measuring the block length up and down, I collect flirting peeks of the bright and varying establishments into an impression of a children center, a nail salon, a bicycle store (with an entrance to a violin shop splitting its space), a crafts class for adults (the women are painting china, wearing clinical masks; what paint is so toxic? those are not oils, nor are they airbrushing).
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Last week of November 2010; Impressions
I want to suffocate him with my hate. Strangle his carefree neck with the twine of my restlessness. Feel the frenzy in my throat, the lock of his silence and disinterest caging by breath, trapping it right at the release! Exploding with the urge to converse, to convey, to connect, I must -
I must write,
and swallow words,
I must forgo all else.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Drove to the middle of nowhere (which was, unsurprisingly, only thirty minutes away from where I live, on the border of nowhere) today morning for my relative's medical procedure. While he was under, I visited a local waffle house (Thank technology for GPSs).
It's a tiny place, hardy a 'house' (more like a small barn); maybe 6 tables in total, with a bar stand across from the narrow kitchen; the whole place populated by villagers. I mean it. I mention it because the the 3 tables around my bar stool gawked at me as if I'd grown horns; I assume this is what dressing in business casual will get you here.
The waffles & bacon and chocolate milk for $6.90 themselves were good & filling and now weight heavily in my abdomen (not healthy, but what won't I do for an adventure of the mundane).
I must write,
and swallow words,
I must forgo all else.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Drove to the middle of nowhere (which was, unsurprisingly, only thirty minutes away from where I live, on the border of nowhere) today morning for my relative's medical procedure. While he was under, I visited a local waffle house (Thank technology for GPSs).
It's a tiny place, hardy a 'house' (more like a small barn); maybe 6 tables in total, with a bar stand across from the narrow kitchen; the whole place populated by villagers. I mean it. I mention it because the the 3 tables around my bar stool gawked at me as if I'd grown horns; I assume this is what dressing in business casual will get you here.
The waffles & bacon and chocolate milk for $6.90 themselves were good & filling and now weight heavily in my abdomen (not healthy, but what won't I do for an adventure of the mundane).
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