the bus slows as it crests the hill. we coast all the way down into the city. smudging the tips of our noses against the glass, we can see thunderheads rolling in over the tops of the skyscrapers, wisping through power lines. we want to stick our fingers outside to catch the static cling, but the bus windows are fused shut, containing us.
rolling into the city is like ducking into a new world where the sky is gray, not blue, and the power lines are at loose ends, throwing sparks all over the city. "we'll get electrocuted," you say, spreading your fingers out against the window. your hand looks like a glowing thing, an alien thing, and the lightning flashes are electric wires spiraling out of your fingertips. "electrified," you say.
i put my fingers in the spaces between your fingers because it's easier to touch that way.
I wish my life was a quirky indie comedy. If life is a series of moments, I feel like they'd all be more significant if I was living them in movie time, instead of in real time.
Stupidly overinvested, ino, but I wouldn't take back anything from the past two years. You're all ridiculously amazing people and I can't believe I am lucky enough to have met you.
I love you all, and this seems like just as good a time as any to say it.
The boy and girl are dancing on the sidewalk outside my house. I can see them through the window, half-hidden by severely-trimmed shrubs at the foot of the driveway, the tops of their heads just brushing blue sky. Moving to a three-step beat, bumping knees and rubbing noses, they waltz. I lose sight of them for a moment, but they stumble back into view, framed by the window, and it is like a landlocked ebb-and-flow in my driveway. The girl leads with her left and watches the toes of her shoes, and the boy slips one hand down over her ass, laughing when she swats him away. When they laugh, they tip their heads together and clasp hands, fingers opening and closing involuntarily. I want to dance with them, but I am inside and they are tripping over each other, tangled up like a set of twisted fingers, intertwined.
I was tagged by The Little Passenger, aka Jayne, to do this survey thing. Warning: all of my answers will be boring.
What is your current obsession? I've been going crazy over this story I've been writing for OVER A YEAR that isn't actually very good. It's 30,000 words and counting (not to be confused with the 25,000 word story I have been writing since last Thanksgiving. Too many long stories). I currently have and have always had a love-hate relationship with this story (which I not-so-affectionately call the "journalist" story even though it has pm nothing to do with journalism). I want to finish it, though, because it would be a pretty big personal accomplishment. And because my friend is FORCING me to finish it. She's a harsh taskmistress, always demanding stories that involve rose petals and punk rockers...WHATEVER.
Coffee or tea? COFFEE. The answer is ALWAYS coffee.
What's for dinner? My dad is cooking some kind of pasta dish. I don't know what it is, but it smells delicious.
What was the last thing you bought? I bought a six pack of Heineken on my way home from the Honda service place this afternoon. GREAT VALUE. You can't beat it.
What are you listening to right now?
What is your favorite ice-cream flavor? I prefer chocolate chip cookie dough, but I'm a big fan of plain chocolate ice cream. I know, that sounds so boring, but I'm a creature of habit. I'm that person who orders the same thing at every restaurant. Routine is the spice of life! I mean, I wouldn't order it if I didn't enjoy it.
What is your favorite colour? Blue.
What is your favorite piece of clothing in your wardrobe? Anyone who knows me IRL has probably guessed I'm not all that interested in clothes. I actually hate shopping. But I hate a lot of things. My lack of patience for shopping doesn't necessarily mean I hate being clothed in nice things. If I had to choose an item, I'd probably pick this blouse I bought a couple weeks ago from H&M. It's so cute! It's kind of a peasant blouse/empire waist/flowery thing that I got for $5.
What is your dream job? Novelist. If I can't be a published author, however, I'd like to work in the promotional/advertising kind of business, specifically in the music industry. I don't even know how I'd make that happen, but I think it would be fucking awesome.
How many times do you press the snooze button before you get up? I don't actually have an alarm clock. I set the alarm on my phone and put my phone across the room so that I actually have to get up to turn it off every morning. As a result, I don't really end up hitting the equivalent of the snooze button very often. Sometimes I do reset my alarm for fifteen minutes later, but I think that generally requires more alertness and higher brain function than a snooze button does.
I'm not feeling particularly long-winded tonight, so it ends there! You're all lucky. I don't have anyone to tag. I guess I'll just tag anyone who hasn't done this survey yet.
I envy -- but I'm not sure that I envy -- those for whom a biography could be written, or who could write their own. In these random impressions, and with no desire to be other than random, I indifferently narrate my factless autobiography, my lifeless history. These are my Confessions, and if in them I say nothing, it's because I have nothing to say.
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