reminiscing...
i remember how i would breathe a sigh of relief each night as the door shut behind the last first-shift worker and i was left alone til midnight or beyond, sometimes till the sun rose.
put on the fresh dogs and my coffee pots, nice and strong.
a little rush hour rush would come and go. the sassy old lotto lady adorned with red lipstick and jewels. the pretty brown-haired girl ordering her capri menthol ultra lights, which i forgave her for, thanks to her amazing breasts. dean with his marb golds and pack of zigzags for the finest amsterdam grass and little presents of such slipped across my counter. the lonliest of all the lonely scratch-off men (one ticket, no luck. two tickets, no luck. three tickets, four, out to the truck. no luck. back for a fifth. night after night after night). french vanilla cappuccino fucker always burning his tongue and yelling and the munchie hoarding hippie couple i adored and the scruffy middle-aged man ill never forget who drove all night, every night, round and round smoking maverick full flavor one-hundreds, which I would sell him, two packs a day. two stops a day. a third for a coffee. round and round with no destination. just him and his smokes and his music and his thoughts, whatever they may have been but thats all i ever found out and i respected it greatly, somehow.
the crowd would die down and i would turn the old radio up in the back. lame, as the radio comes, but its all i had. best i could scrounge was your typical classic rock hits, occasionally a marathon of zeppelin or pink floyd or something pleasing with a high. i would make my rounds, coffee and dogs, light a smoke in the office with my feet up, pack a little bowl with one eye on the cameras and i would take a few hits till a body with perhaps a soul inside would enter the shop. and they would come and go and talk or not and my cigarette would smoulder in the ashtray.
many quick strangers passed through each day, questionable and questioning. wondering why a small young girl was manning this place all alone in the dark of night, or at all. and i just smiled and shrugged and loved the inexplicability of it to most. regulars would stay and chat for a moment, or awhile. the little old man with his tasty cakes and bottle of coca cola. ten p.m. without fail. and every night i would wonder about the thoughts in his head as he would stand and slowly drain the coke and stare out my window in silence. maybe thinking of the soda fountain way back when, or someone no longer waiting back home, or someone that was, or about fireflies in june or about nothing at all. he would stay for so long, just standing and sipping and nibbling and staring out and i never knew what to say to him. i always wished i had. or perhaps nothing was enough.
and then he would leave and i would clean up a bit and brew another pot, grab a fresh pack of camels from behind the counter and walk outside.
no headlights for miles, check. and i would light up and inhale slowly, lean my head back against the window and exhale, eyes closed. sitting on the little brick ledge and i would watch the lights go out in the boston market across the street and the last car pull away. alone at last and it was summer so the air always felt warm and comforting against my skin. headlights would appear and fade and i would smile and look at the stars and think how crazy life is and how unexpectedly pleasant are the nights here at a gas station all alone in a quiet part of town, only nineteen. invincible. looking around at a great big world and never feeling small. realizing for the first time how badly i longed to just run forever. not from anything but for anything and everything my heart desires. to see as much of the earth as possible. to remain a friendly stranger to most. i remember thinking about how i would be leaving town soon, once the seasons changed. from the about to be frigid pittsburghian lands to the empty and cool east coast sands (and little did i know i would be back again and again and again till this ripe old age of twenty-four)
i can picture exactly all those empty pumps before my eyes and sometimes thinking it grand that i controlled them all. just crazy little me and hundreds of thousands of dollars of gasoline.
there is something about the way the air feels tonight, (muggy, slightly chilled but with a lingering warmth from the day) coming in through my window that made me remember that time. empty tanks and stomachs, empty smoke packs and coffee mugs, and me saving the world from it all. happy and care-free and high as a kite.
its nice to think about that unforgettable summer, sometimes.
but in recent rexxy news!!!
went to harrisonburg, virginia this past weekend for a music festival called macrock
drank a shitload of whiskey and saw some incredible bands:
we were skeletons
capsule
u.s. christmas
gifts from enola
and fucking PIANOS BECOME THE TEETH. holy fuck, is that band amazing
honestly the best show i've seen this year. perhaps even in several years.
just finished reading underworld by don delillo (epic)
and started the idiot by my man dostoevsky
warm weather is finally arriving.
i'm broke as a joke but no matter.
got muh man back from tour for awhile. (
)
got chinese food
got a naked body to do some twisty yoga with once we part in a moment
got unread books and some sick new jams to check out
got porn.
got nag champa,
got orange juice.
got hot sauce.
got..bacon? no. i have no bacon.
but i will endure.
life. is. good.
sweet.
fabulous.
fucking GREAT.
FUCKING groovy.
i said my last blog was to be continued and i would tell you about texas buti am lazy and went off on a tangent along other lines and so perhaps some day it wiiiiill be continued. perhaps it won't! either way, it ruled.
anyway, got a computer again for the next couple of months.
so lets all get to be friends again.
i miss thee, like the desert misses the rain
(oh god, nineties)
ciao/meow.
<3 Rexxy
i remember how i would breathe a sigh of relief each night as the door shut behind the last first-shift worker and i was left alone til midnight or beyond, sometimes till the sun rose.
put on the fresh dogs and my coffee pots, nice and strong.
a little rush hour rush would come and go. the sassy old lotto lady adorned with red lipstick and jewels. the pretty brown-haired girl ordering her capri menthol ultra lights, which i forgave her for, thanks to her amazing breasts. dean with his marb golds and pack of zigzags for the finest amsterdam grass and little presents of such slipped across my counter. the lonliest of all the lonely scratch-off men (one ticket, no luck. two tickets, no luck. three tickets, four, out to the truck. no luck. back for a fifth. night after night after night). french vanilla cappuccino fucker always burning his tongue and yelling and the munchie hoarding hippie couple i adored and the scruffy middle-aged man ill never forget who drove all night, every night, round and round smoking maverick full flavor one-hundreds, which I would sell him, two packs a day. two stops a day. a third for a coffee. round and round with no destination. just him and his smokes and his music and his thoughts, whatever they may have been but thats all i ever found out and i respected it greatly, somehow.
the crowd would die down and i would turn the old radio up in the back. lame, as the radio comes, but its all i had. best i could scrounge was your typical classic rock hits, occasionally a marathon of zeppelin or pink floyd or something pleasing with a high. i would make my rounds, coffee and dogs, light a smoke in the office with my feet up, pack a little bowl with one eye on the cameras and i would take a few hits till a body with perhaps a soul inside would enter the shop. and they would come and go and talk or not and my cigarette would smoulder in the ashtray.
many quick strangers passed through each day, questionable and questioning. wondering why a small young girl was manning this place all alone in the dark of night, or at all. and i just smiled and shrugged and loved the inexplicability of it to most. regulars would stay and chat for a moment, or awhile. the little old man with his tasty cakes and bottle of coca cola. ten p.m. without fail. and every night i would wonder about the thoughts in his head as he would stand and slowly drain the coke and stare out my window in silence. maybe thinking of the soda fountain way back when, or someone no longer waiting back home, or someone that was, or about fireflies in june or about nothing at all. he would stay for so long, just standing and sipping and nibbling and staring out and i never knew what to say to him. i always wished i had. or perhaps nothing was enough.
and then he would leave and i would clean up a bit and brew another pot, grab a fresh pack of camels from behind the counter and walk outside.
no headlights for miles, check. and i would light up and inhale slowly, lean my head back against the window and exhale, eyes closed. sitting on the little brick ledge and i would watch the lights go out in the boston market across the street and the last car pull away. alone at last and it was summer so the air always felt warm and comforting against my skin. headlights would appear and fade and i would smile and look at the stars and think how crazy life is and how unexpectedly pleasant are the nights here at a gas station all alone in a quiet part of town, only nineteen. invincible. looking around at a great big world and never feeling small. realizing for the first time how badly i longed to just run forever. not from anything but for anything and everything my heart desires. to see as much of the earth as possible. to remain a friendly stranger to most. i remember thinking about how i would be leaving town soon, once the seasons changed. from the about to be frigid pittsburghian lands to the empty and cool east coast sands (and little did i know i would be back again and again and again till this ripe old age of twenty-four)
i can picture exactly all those empty pumps before my eyes and sometimes thinking it grand that i controlled them all. just crazy little me and hundreds of thousands of dollars of gasoline.
there is something about the way the air feels tonight, (muggy, slightly chilled but with a lingering warmth from the day) coming in through my window that made me remember that time. empty tanks and stomachs, empty smoke packs and coffee mugs, and me saving the world from it all. happy and care-free and high as a kite.
its nice to think about that unforgettable summer, sometimes.
but in recent rexxy news!!!
went to harrisonburg, virginia this past weekend for a music festival called macrock
drank a shitload of whiskey and saw some incredible bands:
we were skeletons
capsule
u.s. christmas
gifts from enola
and fucking PIANOS BECOME THE TEETH. holy fuck, is that band amazing
honestly the best show i've seen this year. perhaps even in several years.
just finished reading underworld by don delillo (epic)
and started the idiot by my man dostoevsky
warm weather is finally arriving.
i'm broke as a joke but no matter.
got muh man back from tour for awhile. (
)got chinese food
got a naked body to do some twisty yoga with once we part in a moment
got unread books and some sick new jams to check out
got porn.
got nag champa,
got orange juice.
got hot sauce.
got..bacon? no. i have no bacon.
but i will endure.
life. is. good.
sweet.
fabulous.
fucking GREAT.
FUCKING groovy.
i said my last blog was to be continued and i would tell you about texas buti am lazy and went off on a tangent along other lines and so perhaps some day it wiiiiill be continued. perhaps it won't! either way, it ruled.
anyway, got a computer again for the next couple of months.
so lets all get to be friends again.
i miss thee, like the desert misses the rain
(oh god, nineties)
ciao/meow.
<3 Rexxy
VIEW 16 of 16 COMMENTS
eweytx:
Great blog as always! Good to hear from you.
toothpickmoe:
You're a goddamn gem, you know that? The bit about the old man actually made me tear up a bit. Please live forever and continue to write this way.