Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Tuesday; it's to get hot
"Tuesday already. I have so much to do, I hope there's an extra work day at the end of the week."
Heart raging, erratically booming - cold sweat. I awoke with wide eyes. It was 4:14 AM. I reached over to the table, and knocked what was left of a triple vodka gimlet onto the floor. Actually, onto a pile of books on the floor, most half read, all not so good. Maybe the lime juice would impart some flavour to them, or at least draw large black ants. Marie likes them in cereal, along with cut up pieces of lipstick. Not one for shopping, cereal consists of potato chips in ginger ale.
I stared at the glowing green digits of the clock, wondering if the light was slowly mutating my genes. Maybe it was a good mutation.
How goes your morning? I pruned some tree limbs in the heat yesterday. It was not really so hot. Perhaps switching from diet Pepsi to refrigerator water and ice is cleansing me of sticky molecules that make one feel hot. The sticky ones are longer, bumpier than H2O, and may have more trouble escaping, like cars lined up after a drive-in movie.
Remember the hotdogs in aluminum bags? Cardboard pizza? Fireworks? Playground in front of the screen? live entertainment? sitting on a patio with sticky steel tables in front of the projection booth before returning to the car? Bugs flying into the flourescent lights above the trough urinals? Sitting on the front fenders watching the movie, and the neighboring cars occupants? Wandering on the roads checking kids out? The rollercoaster feeling of running down the parking places slopes in the dark? The countdown movie? It was often as good as the feature. Do I recall seeing guys on screen in slacks and plaid shirts with monster heads on their shoulders - Green Men from Mars?
In-car heaters in the dead of winter in at a drive-in on the road to Woonsocket? Waiting later for a snow plow to follow up the hill to Ronnie's Orzechowicz' house? She was sweet. So was Lenear Rudinsky, who owned a black 56 Ford, and used to pick me up at St. Ray's before I could drive. And Pamela Kline, who talked a policeman out of arresting us for having half a sixpack at Colt's drive, and who was later solely instrumental in my Mom having the State police arrest me for stealing my own car?
Then Ed Bailey, rookie Pawtucket cop and best friend since we could walk, recently hired by the Attleboro police, having a gang of his cronies stopping cars at the RI - MASS border by the State Line Resturant? And having me arrested. They drove me handcuffed in the back seat of a patrol car not to the barracks, but to a dirt road behind the reservoir - I knew I was gonna get punished, a pre-booking routine I'd never forget in case a judge got it all wrong. Only to find it was Ed in the front right seat, with a trunk full of pizzas and beer? Spotlights later illuminating beer can targets.
Last night I went outside to again enjoy seeing a sliver of orange Moon. And this morning a heavy Sun split by horizontal dawn clouds lurked at the tree lines.
I digress. It's still Tuesday. Maybe it's the heat.
Heart raging, erratically booming - cold sweat. I awoke with wide eyes. It was 4:14 AM. I reached over to the table, and knocked what was left of a triple vodka gimlet onto the floor. Actually, onto a pile of books on the floor, most half read, all not so good. Maybe the lime juice would impart some flavour to them, or at least draw large black ants. Marie likes them in cereal, along with cut up pieces of lipstick. Not one for shopping, cereal consists of potato chips in ginger ale.
I stared at the glowing green digits of the clock, wondering if the light was slowly mutating my genes. Maybe it was a good mutation.
How goes your morning? I pruned some tree limbs in the heat yesterday. It was not really so hot. Perhaps switching from diet Pepsi to refrigerator water and ice is cleansing me of sticky molecules that make one feel hot. The sticky ones are longer, bumpier than H2O, and may have more trouble escaping, like cars lined up after a drive-in movie.
Remember the hotdogs in aluminum bags? Cardboard pizza? Fireworks? Playground in front of the screen? live entertainment? sitting on a patio with sticky steel tables in front of the projection booth before returning to the car? Bugs flying into the flourescent lights above the trough urinals? Sitting on the front fenders watching the movie, and the neighboring cars occupants? Wandering on the roads checking kids out? The rollercoaster feeling of running down the parking places slopes in the dark? The countdown movie? It was often as good as the feature. Do I recall seeing guys on screen in slacks and plaid shirts with monster heads on their shoulders - Green Men from Mars?
In-car heaters in the dead of winter in at a drive-in on the road to Woonsocket? Waiting later for a snow plow to follow up the hill to Ronnie's Orzechowicz' house? She was sweet. So was Lenear Rudinsky, who owned a black 56 Ford, and used to pick me up at St. Ray's before I could drive. And Pamela Kline, who talked a policeman out of arresting us for having half a sixpack at Colt's drive, and who was later solely instrumental in my Mom having the State police arrest me for stealing my own car?
Then Ed Bailey, rookie Pawtucket cop and best friend since we could walk, recently hired by the Attleboro police, having a gang of his cronies stopping cars at the RI - MASS border by the State Line Resturant? And having me arrested. They drove me handcuffed in the back seat of a patrol car not to the barracks, but to a dirt road behind the reservoir - I knew I was gonna get punished, a pre-booking routine I'd never forget in case a judge got it all wrong. Only to find it was Ed in the front right seat, with a trunk full of pizzas and beer? Spotlights later illuminating beer can targets.
Last night I went outside to again enjoy seeing a sliver of orange Moon. And this morning a heavy Sun split by horizontal dawn clouds lurked at the tree lines.
I digress. It's still Tuesday. Maybe it's the heat.
# posted by F X @ 7:59 AM 
