Monday, April 18, 2005

View From A First Floor Balcony...

Twilight descends upon Madison as soft as a feather, and here I sit in the growing darkness on Grandma's old easy chair, listening to the gradual dwindle of happy chirping from the branches above. How wonderful. Tranquility laps at my uncluttered brain like the cool water of a lake with no agenda, and all, for the moment, is well. The bustle of downtown seems distant and removed as the orange sky gives way to a pre-darkness pale blue, the only things working are the spiders twirling their webs about the porch, and there is an open, job-well-done beer opened and awaiting my instructions on the table to my right. This is the way I like it. As to what job it was exactly that was so well done, well, I don't really know to be honest, but it just seemed like a good idea. Cold beer is always appropriate, especially on nights when I remain out of doors in shorts and a T-shirt when it is nigh on eight o' clock.
Boy, it sure is great to have that fucking ape called Winter off my back...
Things I learned today:
  1. That noise coming from the upstairs apartment that sounds like someone bench-pressing a sumo wrestler is most definitely our neighbors engaging in some very apathetic sounding sexual intercourse. "Cool," you might think. No. This is not "cool." It is distracting from my daily quest for nirvana. Besides, these people are not what I would term pleasant or cordial in any sense of the words. In fact, they, the woman especially, may be directly in cahoots with Satan himself. I'm only saying. The only redeeming factor I can see from our brief exchanges is the guy's initials are J. Hendrix. Sweet. Sort of. It'd be a lot cooler if J. didn't stand for Jason.
  2. Breathing becomes much less labored following the relief of quitting a job you don't particularly enjoy being lifted off of your shoulders. While my time at "Hank's" drawing to a close does mark the end of an era in my life, the time has come to boogie forward to a new scene. The longer I worked there, the more like a rabid squirrel I became. I was lost in a maze with no reward at the end. As of today, an ultimatum has been laid down, and I await the reply. Either way, I walk. Pretty much. Mixed feelings ensue. More as it unravels. As if you care.
  3. My brain is numb with spring fever. Each year I feel like a blind man who's just been granted sight for the first time, and I am completely, helplessly hypnotized by the sudden onslaught of all the flesh jiggling around. Holy crap. The female form is a powerful weapon. Or perhaps I'm just a pervert. Either way, I walk. Oh wait--I said that already.

And onwards into the night...

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