block/world party

***The Peepholism in my Neighborhood (a nod to Sesame Street or Mr. Rogers? I'm betting on Rogers, because his cardigan = friendly = community, but I'm likely wrong)***

On a walk to the local liquorland to get Sour Skittles (dinner) and a Hershey's S'mores bar (dessert) 5 minutes ago, I crossed paths with my building manager (volunteer nurse, always with her wee peeing dog, always nicest ever) + a new gent (short...my neighborhood attracts small mens, and I don't know why...bragged about owning 'nothing particleboard!') + my building-mate (NY guy who thinks everything I say is ironic, oh-funny, even when I say "I like 7-UP" like I just did. His response = "Serious? 7-UP? Fssssht...right!") SUPER ADDENDUM 11/14: Post-move, this guy became a short-term favorite and I kinda misread him, but he's also a strange shark.

I like how British Sea Power's "Fear of Drowning"'s first 3 words are "Jesus fucking Christ..." Just...I think that's fun from a bunch of guys in jodpurs who send me emails about ornithology.

THE POINT, ALMOST: Building-manager lady asked when I'm moving (I am), and I told her and laughed about how, now that I'm all On My Way, I see her more than ever. She, in the sage voice of building historicity, told me how lots of my former neighbors have relocated to the exact area where I'm hanging my stovepipe hat. Then we talked about "move antithesis" -- when people jump from something a,b,c to the new-flavored Oppositeland of x,y,z. Meaning (I know you guessed already) I'll be living in the attic of a fish tank repair store in Woodland Hills. And dating a rastafarian. And of course this applies to more than literal boxesboxesboxes moving...

THE POINT, HONED, OR NOT: Antithesis is attractive not so much as a curative but as a soothing expedient, especially when the childproof cap version is chosen and you don't erase-errata anything of actual survival value. Meaning, a smear of scenery, new points plotted in pencil and (in my case) pretty tree branches clonking against my windowpanes and none of those vertical blinds like plastic albino eyelashes that collect dust = like the gentle means to an end whose hopeful tremolo is in the air out there. Potentially also meaning I'm only capable of some vague signal-to-noise, that I'm scared of the handclap that smacks the ass of real, boldfaced change. Maybe. Or maybe I just really wanted a parking space, you know? This is definitely the jetstream of a migratory pattern (hence all the people I'm following the wagon trail of). It's all so end-of-the-month, end-of-summer, end-of-your-20s in tone.

One more thing: Sonic Youth's "Stereo Sanctity" = drums on empty Quaker Oats canisters. Your best guy friend (the one with great long bangs) took your dad's flannel work jacket when you went out drinking and then spilled beer on it so he brought it back to his place to wash, but he never does laundry and you pretty much know for sure he wants to keep it because he thinks it makes him look hard or hot, and your dad thinks you lost it and is really pissed off, but you don't have the guts to ask your friend for it back...you just sit there silently praying he never, ever wears it over. "I...I...I can't get laid 'cause everyone is dead."

DONE!

fell on 2004-08-22 at 8:15 p.m.

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