little red car

I laid my head on my car's hood this afternoon after I got off the phone with the police department and cried. There was just this awful, heavy feeling of injury. Why would someone want to hurt my car while it was sleeping peacefully in the parking lot? My poor car, it's cold and the glass is all over the interior. I feel terrible for it.

the dream of broken glass

My car is whole again, though I'm still picking pieces of faintly greenish glass out of the interior. It's very fragile once broken, and reminds me of the time I saw a tabletop in Metro shattered. A man who looked a lot like Steve Buscemi's younger brother came out to pull off the door panel and install a new window. The glass is made in South Africa, which I didn't know. It was quick and over before 10am.

While cleaning, I got around to opening the glove compartment. I found a cd case in there, with two cds inside. Alan's Joy Division case was on the seat, but one of my cds was in there. So all I've got left now are:

Stickpony's live album
Sarah McLaughlan's "Into the Fire" single
Tori Amos - Little Earthquakes

Perhaps not ones I would have saved, but better than nothing.

Afterwards, I slept til this very moment, and I dreamed my friend John from high school came back. His hair was darker and he was changed somehow, but I recognized him. We were staying in a big house with parquet floors and many bathrooms, surrounded by trees. My kitchen cabinets were full of tomatillos. Roland was there, and other characters I remember from games.