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In the twilight, the sun hung like a flat disc, a perfect red Photoshop gradient across it in the grey sky. Tonight the moon also had a reddish tint, so I think there must be dust up there in the air.
Gene and I went over to eat dinner with Jim and Elisa. It was so oddly normal, I'm not sure how to explain. Perhaps it is just knowing that I'm old enough to be driving to the store to buy Pilsner Urquell, and eating dinner at a friend's house, two couples talking about random things... strange. Elisa and I laughed when we went outside to talk and smoke, because the guys were no doubt already watching Army of Darkness and talking about neural nets and wacky CS professors. I don't know, but it was pleasant and peaceful really, just to be there. I wish I had more evenings like that, even with the strange, constant buzz of different cell phones. We're going to get Jim a juicer, just to see what happens. He's a hell of a cook, that boy.
I drove us home, and Gene must be reading my mind, because he flipped the cd directly to "Fascination Street." It's my favorite song off that album. So we drove up the highways, listening to the Cure, talked a little on the porch, smoking cigarettes and drinking his beer. It tastes faintly of something between coffee and caramel somehow.
There are not words, in any langauge I know. Perhaps it is just the quiet before another storm of madness, entirely possible in my case. But I'm happy right in this moment. Actually, happy.
Gene and I went over to eat dinner with Jim and Elisa. It was so oddly normal, I'm not sure how to explain. Perhaps it is just knowing that I'm old enough to be driving to the store to buy Pilsner Urquell, and eating dinner at a friend's house, two couples talking about random things... strange. Elisa and I laughed when we went outside to talk and smoke, because the guys were no doubt already watching Army of Darkness and talking about neural nets and wacky CS professors. I don't know, but it was pleasant and peaceful really, just to be there. I wish I had more evenings like that, even with the strange, constant buzz of different cell phones. We're going to get Jim a juicer, just to see what happens. He's a hell of a cook, that boy.
I drove us home, and Gene must be reading my mind, because he flipped the cd directly to "Fascination Street." It's my favorite song off that album. So we drove up the highways, listening to the Cure, talked a little on the porch, smoking cigarettes and drinking his beer. It tastes faintly of something between coffee and caramel somehow.
There are not words, in any langauge I know. Perhaps it is just the quiet before another storm of madness, entirely possible in my case. But I'm happy right in this moment. Actually, happy.