city amusement tax
june 6, 2008
humidity today without the heat. the kind of weather where any movement generates sweat and non-movement causes lethargy. i had lunch with friends this afternoon and said, "it feels like it wants to rain. and when it does, all this humidity will go away." and one of my friends said, "no it won't. you've been gone too long."
there was only one time all of last year in san francisco that felt like today - a sunday where a bunch of us had an impromptu bbq. we ate too much, drank too much, and stayed out in t-shirts and shorts until late into the night. now it makes me smile. a whole summer like this is just beginning - only with heat that will hang around until sometime in september. then it'll drop and the best season there is will start: fall in the midwest.
but first there is just tonight, 7:00pm on a friday night. it's a moment i'm able to recognize but unable to seize. i've no where to be, no one waiting for me, nothing expected of me. i could write! i could read! the two things i've been complaining to myself that i need to be doing more of. but mostly i wonder what people are up to outside my window. they walk or drive past and i'm curious where they are going, who they are meeting, and if tonight it's better to be them or to be me contemplating climbing up on a chair to increase the speed of the ceiling fan.
we're now approaching my big dilemma of late: have i spent so much time around other people the past several years that i don't remember how to be alone? and it's almost funny: i've been out and about this week, quite busy actually. yet now i get anxious and sitting here at the computer is trying my patience so i have a sip of beer, think about a cigarette, keep the fingers moving.
i've had a new story idea for a while now. i have no idea if it has any legs. friends of my mine have fallen in love and are getting married and it feels like the words i'm courting are playing hard to get.
the humidity is drawing the veins of my forearms to the surface. this happened once in the presence of an ex-girlfriend, this visibility of my veins, and i said, "i like it when my arms do this. i like the way it looks." and she said, "boys do."
there was only one time all of last year in san francisco that felt like today - a sunday where a bunch of us had an impromptu bbq. we ate too much, drank too much, and stayed out in t-shirts and shorts until late into the night. now it makes me smile. a whole summer like this is just beginning - only with heat that will hang around until sometime in september. then it'll drop and the best season there is will start: fall in the midwest.
but first there is just tonight, 7:00pm on a friday night. it's a moment i'm able to recognize but unable to seize. i've no where to be, no one waiting for me, nothing expected of me. i could write! i could read! the two things i've been complaining to myself that i need to be doing more of. but mostly i wonder what people are up to outside my window. they walk or drive past and i'm curious where they are going, who they are meeting, and if tonight it's better to be them or to be me contemplating climbing up on a chair to increase the speed of the ceiling fan.
we're now approaching my big dilemma of late: have i spent so much time around other people the past several years that i don't remember how to be alone? and it's almost funny: i've been out and about this week, quite busy actually. yet now i get anxious and sitting here at the computer is trying my patience so i have a sip of beer, think about a cigarette, keep the fingers moving.
i've had a new story idea for a while now. i have no idea if it has any legs. friends of my mine have fallen in love and are getting married and it feels like the words i'm courting are playing hard to get.
the humidity is drawing the veins of my forearms to the surface. this happened once in the presence of an ex-girlfriend, this visibility of my veins, and i said, "i like it when my arms do this. i like the way it looks." and she said, "boys do."