1. Tuesday, July 29, 2003

    the voice said that you know youre in trouble when it feels like 

    everything is keeping you away from blogging. work, subway rides, super heroics, eating, pissing, yelling, laughing, getting nominated

    doing laundry.

    if i was any sort of man i would have photographed the block before the rainstorm when the armenians were at their card tables outside in their fenced in front yard driveways where the little puppies lay at the feet of the dark haired men with frowns on strong faces and relatives all around.

    proud people. proud of something. proud not to be dragging a granny cart of the most miserable clothes down the street.

    the skies were midnight blue and it was almost eight pm, last wash at 8 pm. 8pm at the coin laundry means that both of the tvs are going to be on spanish stations.

    a woman with four children. the two oldest are reading two books. the two minute detective and harry potter.

    theyre teasing each other about the endings. dont tell me dont tell me. was it ….? dont tell me.

    chinese man flips the sign at eight and half the place is still full.

    mexican woman wipes down each one of the washers one by one. getting every crevice. she eventually will start sweeping as people slowly finish washing their terrible clothes.

    the thunder began and then the lightening. one of them was first.

    a woman talked to her old woman momma.

    a young mexican woman smiled at me. i wondered if she smiled at everyone. i wondered whos kids those were. the one who dopped the fruit rollup on the floor that had gone through a lot that day.

    i was wearing shorts. didnt happen to be washing any raincoats. no car. about four five blocks back home. for some reason i wasnt worried and i ate my pork skins and drank my water.

    this was one of those super grab bags of pork skins. about the size of a sixty nine cent bag of fritos.

    it said 85 calories a serving.

    some how they get 5 servings out of that bag of pork rinds.

    extra spicy.

    and i was thinking if i was married to that woman and her three kids, could i really bring home a buck bag of pork skins and say, here you are family.

    a serving for each of us.

    and when i was done there wasnt any more raining. just good smelling nothingness.

    and the dogs still barked at me from behind their chains.

    and the little kids blew bubbles from their bubble thing thing and said hi.

    and the church members talked about official business.

    and my gwar shirt was finally clean again.