A day, just another boring, random day
The white hot sun was beating down as I sped down the boulevard, blaring the Sonic Youth masterpieces Catholic Block and Death Valley '69. I was in a hurry to get across town, when my progress was slowed down by something I've been noticing a lot of around town lately. A black man in his twenties on a crotch rocket with a thirty-ish white woman on the back, riding very slow in the far left lane. I wondered why I see this so much latley. It had to be like the fifth or sixth time I've seen that this month. I used to only see those types of women as housewives before, but I guess there's just something about a young african american guy riding a japanese motorcycle that they just can't resist. I stopped at a stoplight and they finally got over so I could get around them, and then they pulled up next to me at the light. I looked over past them at a cop sitting on the other side of the intersection. I guess the young man thought I was giving him fightin' looks because he gave me a very very stern, disaproving look.
Anyways. shortly after this I get a text message from this girl I used to love, who didn't love me and only called when she wanted something. She still sends me a message from time to time. Anyhow she's messaging me again and clearly wants something. Mostly when she wants something she beats around the bush rather than being direct about it. Sometimes I appreciate the game she's playing other times I don't. today I just wished she'd get on with it and ask me what she wanted, but the conversation was so cryptic I never quite figured it out, and so forgot about it.
Later on, in the evening she came over, and we hung out. I slept with her, and am sure it was one of those things where it meant a lot more to me than it did to her. Now that I think about it that's really sad. We were quite honest with each other when she was here, and the whole thing was enjoyable to a point, but it's going no where, thats for certain. And even if it were going anywhere I don't even know what the hell I want at the moment, every time I think I know what I want something comes along that just goes to show how full of shit I am.
At any rate, now that I think of it it is a rather sad affair, and life has once again gotten to the point where it is boring and unfullfilling. When I was young, when I still had my innocence and stupidty, I always thought there would be so much more than this.
While passing down the stairs I looked at a picture of my grandparents circa 1955, when they were young and beautiful and very much in love, when they had their whole lives ahead of them. I looked at that picture and thought to myself, they'll never have that again, what they had then. And I wonder what made them the way they are now. On special occasions they seem to still love each other very much, but my mother, as well as others have said that they are both just waiting around to see who will die first, both of them certain it will be the other person, and waiting to live out the rest of their days as a solemn yet contented widow.
The white hot sun was beating down as I sped down the boulevard, blaring the Sonic Youth masterpieces Catholic Block and Death Valley '69. I was in a hurry to get across town, when my progress was slowed down by something I've been noticing a lot of around town lately. A black man in his twenties on a crotch rocket with a thirty-ish white woman on the back, riding very slow in the far left lane. I wondered why I see this so much latley. It had to be like the fifth or sixth time I've seen that this month. I used to only see those types of women as housewives before, but I guess there's just something about a young african american guy riding a japanese motorcycle that they just can't resist. I stopped at a stoplight and they finally got over so I could get around them, and then they pulled up next to me at the light. I looked over past them at a cop sitting on the other side of the intersection. I guess the young man thought I was giving him fightin' looks because he gave me a very very stern, disaproving look.
Anyways. shortly after this I get a text message from this girl I used to love, who didn't love me and only called when she wanted something. She still sends me a message from time to time. Anyhow she's messaging me again and clearly wants something. Mostly when she wants something she beats around the bush rather than being direct about it. Sometimes I appreciate the game she's playing other times I don't. today I just wished she'd get on with it and ask me what she wanted, but the conversation was so cryptic I never quite figured it out, and so forgot about it.
Later on, in the evening she came over, and we hung out. I slept with her, and am sure it was one of those things where it meant a lot more to me than it did to her. Now that I think about it that's really sad. We were quite honest with each other when she was here, and the whole thing was enjoyable to a point, but it's going no where, thats for certain. And even if it were going anywhere I don't even know what the hell I want at the moment, every time I think I know what I want something comes along that just goes to show how full of shit I am.
At any rate, now that I think of it it is a rather sad affair, and life has once again gotten to the point where it is boring and unfullfilling. When I was young, when I still had my innocence and stupidty, I always thought there would be so much more than this.
While passing down the stairs I looked at a picture of my grandparents circa 1955, when they were young and beautiful and very much in love, when they had their whole lives ahead of them. I looked at that picture and thought to myself, they'll never have that again, what they had then. And I wonder what made them the way they are now. On special occasions they seem to still love each other very much, but my mother, as well as others have said that they are both just waiting around to see who will die first, both of them certain it will be the other person, and waiting to live out the rest of their days as a solemn yet contented widow.