exceptance speech
the past and i did cheat the present. only in the past, we were nothing but present. did we then, cheat the future presently instead? there then, as we are now. only a far cry from.
what am i trying to say. i'm trying to let you know how much more whiskey there was last night when compared to the paltry gulps partaken of tonight. how you should never cheat the present, when it is, and it's always. except for right now when it's later and the music's loud. Oh but it's now. wash, rinse, placebo.
i've told myself a lot of things. more to tell than can be told just for telling, but, just for telling...
i slept into the afternoon, slowly. as Woken up man, i tried making a deal with my...er, "car" that if it would just start this once, i would give it an oil change on thursday. that's all guy. it's my bday and i want some chipotle, so just do me the favor and i'll make sure it gets back to you. so it starts up and i realize i should've tried to cut the deal for starting twice. i don't wanna be stranded at the mall. but it's a mall and there's food there and the day's hot, and mine, so i decide the car's just gonna have to start twice. and i go get some chipotle and come back with it. nomnomnom. i start watching a movie, but it looks good (i can tell from the opening credits) and i don't want to interrupt it in an hour when i go to class so instead i watch an episode of dead like me. s01e07 or something. i pause and enjoy the back porch and just sit there for a while, truly appreciating just how hot it is, and that it's hot at all. i tell myself it's hot just for me. i like telling this to myself and it makes me smile. i might've chuckled a bit. further appreciating how seldom things are 'hot for me'. and damn it was hot. it was the first hot day i've felt this year, and feeling it felt good. last night as i was staying up, getting drunk, reading a book and trying to feel mature i told myself that i'd get up early and nevermind. that part'll have to circle the airspace in my head til it finds a runway long enough. as i was savoring the someday summer swelter (i know, right?) two passing flies totally had relations in front of my face, flew off and then came back, landed on my shirt and did some more humpin'. i found myself all too momentarily fascinated. then it's thanks, but, no third wheel action for me today. you'll have to do your unbalanced, sloppy lovemaking in the privacy of your own sky, shoo! i go to class. our teacher is very french. my brain is slowly turned to mush and i experience some minor system slowdown. at nine o' clock i pack my five ton book away and pedal home past the lake. that was six hours ago now. i've got a lot of things to say but it's getting late. the night was cool, not cold like the ones before it. there's a quesadilla from la fuente (aka 'chili relleno' - a fine food establishment in soledad) complete with all the trimmings waiting for me on the kitchen counter in a styrofoam box. me and the frying pan sing to it a tuplet with the stove to the tune of get warm again. and it does, and tastes good. i eat it watching an old andy griffith episode with g.ma. then i watch the go getter, and it puts me in a mood like a good movie will from time to time. zooey deschanel pours out her thick honey voice like rain. even sings a track with m.warD, whose music, it turns out, i have missed entirely much more than i thought. i've been listening to it for the past several hours. longer if you count the film.
i count the film. goodnight.
(happy green beer day!)
what am i trying to say. i'm trying to let you know how much more whiskey there was last night when compared to the paltry gulps partaken of tonight. how you should never cheat the present, when it is, and it's always. except for right now when it's later and the music's loud. Oh but it's now. wash, rinse, placebo.
i've told myself a lot of things. more to tell than can be told just for telling, but, just for telling...
i slept into the afternoon, slowly. as Woken up man, i tried making a deal with my...er, "car" that if it would just start this once, i would give it an oil change on thursday. that's all guy. it's my bday and i want some chipotle, so just do me the favor and i'll make sure it gets back to you. so it starts up and i realize i should've tried to cut the deal for starting twice. i don't wanna be stranded at the mall. but it's a mall and there's food there and the day's hot, and mine, so i decide the car's just gonna have to start twice. and i go get some chipotle and come back with it. nomnomnom. i start watching a movie, but it looks good (i can tell from the opening credits) and i don't want to interrupt it in an hour when i go to class so instead i watch an episode of dead like me. s01e07 or something. i pause and enjoy the back porch and just sit there for a while, truly appreciating just how hot it is, and that it's hot at all. i tell myself it's hot just for me. i like telling this to myself and it makes me smile. i might've chuckled a bit. further appreciating how seldom things are 'hot for me'. and damn it was hot. it was the first hot day i've felt this year, and feeling it felt good. last night as i was staying up, getting drunk, reading a book and trying to feel mature i told myself that i'd get up early and nevermind. that part'll have to circle the airspace in my head til it finds a runway long enough. as i was savoring the someday summer swelter (i know, right?) two passing flies totally had relations in front of my face, flew off and then came back, landed on my shirt and did some more humpin'. i found myself all too momentarily fascinated. then it's thanks, but, no third wheel action for me today. you'll have to do your unbalanced, sloppy lovemaking in the privacy of your own sky, shoo! i go to class. our teacher is very french. my brain is slowly turned to mush and i experience some minor system slowdown. at nine o' clock i pack my five ton book away and pedal home past the lake. that was six hours ago now. i've got a lot of things to say but it's getting late. the night was cool, not cold like the ones before it. there's a quesadilla from la fuente (aka 'chili relleno' - a fine food establishment in soledad) complete with all the trimmings waiting for me on the kitchen counter in a styrofoam box. me and the frying pan sing to it a tuplet with the stove to the tune of get warm again. and it does, and tastes good. i eat it watching an old andy griffith episode with g.ma. then i watch the go getter, and it puts me in a mood like a good movie will from time to time. zooey deschanel pours out her thick honey voice like rain. even sings a track with m.warD, whose music, it turns out, i have missed entirely much more than i thought. i've been listening to it for the past several hours. longer if you count the film.
i count the film. goodnight.
(happy green beer day!)