(no subject)
The fan of the microwave churns filling the kitchen with a moist vapor, scented by the cooked jasmine-rice-variant bubbling inside my microwave-rice-cooker.
The day has been a miniature roller coaster ride, in terms of my emotional state.
After awaking this morning at 7:00am; snoozing, dicking around on the net, and rolling around in bed; the taxi driver called me up and informed me he'd be by to drop off my lost items.
Oh, infamous key loser. Kagi-nai hito!
I wandered downstairs in the yard letting the cool morning breeze waft through the open fence. Small patterns of wood imprinted upon my shoulder as I leaned against the wooden fence's frame.
As he pulled up, I hopped over to the driver's side window. He passed me my keys and I passed him a free-pizza card. Kept the smalltalk to a minimum, thanked him again, and vaulted upstairs.
After a shower and 20 minutes spent meandering online, I got ready for work and made for the bus stop.
I stepped onto the #1 bus -- shirt crisp, slacks straightened save a single crease -- found my seat and started a daydream. Mid-thought the white lady on the inside seat grabbed the handle of her bag, a common motion for "I'm getting off, move it."
So I did.
Stepping backwards, awkwardly, with one hand on my attache and the other up over my head on the rail I moved out of her way.
My wandering eye fell upon a skinned-ink-green line, of what seemed to be a daisy chain, climbing up, up, and up until it crashed into the hem-line of an attractive white girl's dress. I am sure she caught notice of this because as I slid back into the inner-seat I could feel her eyes on my back.
She coyishly asked for my pardon. Of which I, in an aloofed manner obliged, and listened to her query.
"Does this bus go by the Foodland?" She asked.
And I, noticing the awkwardness of the question responded, "Yes."
A moment of increasingly awkward silence followed and I put an abrupt stop to the possibly failed communique that was to follow by mentioning that "the Foodland" was the next stop. She leapt at the opportunity to console her ego and stepped off the bus.
I caught a final glimpse of her person and noted a dark astrological shoulder tattoo --
- - - - -
My microwaved rice and curry mixed into the bowl -- looks great.
I miss Emiko.
May 24th, 2004
The day has been a miniature roller coaster ride, in terms of my emotional state.
After awaking this morning at 7:00am; snoozing, dicking around on the net, and rolling around in bed; the taxi driver called me up and informed me he'd be by to drop off my lost items.
Oh, infamous key loser. Kagi-nai hito!
I wandered downstairs in the yard letting the cool morning breeze waft through the open fence. Small patterns of wood imprinted upon my shoulder as I leaned against the wooden fence's frame.
As he pulled up, I hopped over to the driver's side window. He passed me my keys and I passed him a free-pizza card. Kept the smalltalk to a minimum, thanked him again, and vaulted upstairs.
After a shower and 20 minutes spent meandering online, I got ready for work and made for the bus stop.
I stepped onto the #1 bus -- shirt crisp, slacks straightened save a single crease -- found my seat and started a daydream. Mid-thought the white lady on the inside seat grabbed the handle of her bag, a common motion for "I'm getting off, move it."
So I did.
Stepping backwards, awkwardly, with one hand on my attache and the other up over my head on the rail I moved out of her way.
My wandering eye fell upon a skinned-ink-green line, of what seemed to be a daisy chain, climbing up, up, and up until it crashed into the hem-line of an attractive white girl's dress. I am sure she caught notice of this because as I slid back into the inner-seat I could feel her eyes on my back.
She coyishly asked for my pardon. Of which I, in an aloofed manner obliged, and listened to her query.
"Does this bus go by the Foodland?" She asked.
And I, noticing the awkwardness of the question responded, "Yes."
A moment of increasingly awkward silence followed and I put an abrupt stop to the possibly failed communique that was to follow by mentioning that "the Foodland" was the next stop. She leapt at the opportunity to console her ego and stepped off the bus.
I caught a final glimpse of her person and noted a dark astrological shoulder tattoo --
- - - - -
My microwaved rice and curry mixed into the bowl -- looks great.
I miss Emiko.
May 24th, 2004