reach out and touch faith
Tonight was quintessential.
The smell of the morning hit my lungs as the garage door grinded upwards towards the ceiling. I clicked the "unlock" button on my keychain and stepped into my small, silver Nissan. It was cooler in the Nissan, and I was grateful. Even though it was still early, the humidity in the air made it hotter, and the dry, cool air of the car surrounded me like water.
I rifled through my CD case, since my iPod was still on the base up in my room. I had no time to wait on it to finish updating - I had to get to work. I grabbed Nine Inch Nails' The Fragile (right) and pulled out the shitty rap Chase had been listening to previously. "T.N.T vs. T.N." I mused aloud, reading the Sharpie scrawled across the CD's smooth surface. Carelessly, I threw it back into the center console, closed the garage and drove to work.
"Do you have a good trivia of the day?" Dorothy was asking not an hour later. "Mm-mmm," I said, shaking my head as I set out the scones. "I'll grab a Trivial Pursuit card, though." I pulled out the cards and drew a few, none of them really satisfying me. "Here's one," I said finally, throwing a card her way. "'What is rolled in the sport of birling?'" I read aloud. "'A log,'" I answered my own question. She kind of laughed, and perused the card. Then she began to write.
"What -" she wrote, and I thought she was going to put down my question. "- type of comedy -" she paused. "How do you spell 'comedy'?" she asked. "That's right," I said, nodding at the writing she scrawled in BriteSticks on the chalk board. " - is Waiting for Godot?" Here she paused again. "Are plays in quotes or underlined? I can never remember." I wasn't sure either, but I was pretty sure it was underlined, and said as such.
"'What type of comedy is Waiting for Godot?'" I read. "What's the answer?" Dorothy looked at me. "You've never read it?" I shook my head. "Oh. Well it's a comedy of the absurd, or tragic." I shrugged, storing the answer in case anyone wanted to answer it.
Finally off work, and a couple hours after that, I was with Anthony again. He rasterbated a new picture for his walls - Bjork. We rasterbated another picture together, a different album cover of hers, the Medulla one. We talked about our frusterations at work, among other things.
The doorbell rang and the night changed entirely.
Alex was at the door, and he came up with purpose. Anthony's mother reminded us that Larry and Keith were expecting a video from us, and were dissapointed that there were no videos. The next half hour or so were spent, laughing, filming, watching ridiculous footage, making fun of my laugh, and editing. The newest video reflects a time like our old videos, and it's good.
Nick called around eight, saying he wanted to go get something to eat. So we all agreed, and Nick came over. A few minutes later, a car stopped in front of the house. I glanced out the window, and wasn't sure who was in the car, or whose car it was. The person got out of the car, and of course it was Nick. He was driving a Mercedes! I was so surprised, I wondered where the car came from.
"The Black Pearl?" He asked, referring to the car. "It's diesel. It's a piece of crap." Apparently, his boss wouldn't let him ride his motorcycle back home in the lightning, so he lent him the "Black Pearl" to get back.
We all piled in the Black Pearl, after a few more moments of silly editing, and drove to Chili's. I glanced at the dash and noticed a book. "What book is that?" I called up to Alex and Anthony in the front. Nick reached up front and grabbed it for me, handing it back to me without a glance at the cover. The cover paralyzed me.
Waiting for Godot.
I could hardly believe it, here was this book I'd never heard of that I just learned about this morning, in my hands. Immediately I began to read it. It was fascinating, I could hardly see it, but I wanted to read it like no other book. I waited until we were at Chili's, then began to read again. I stopped reading it shortly, only able to stare distantly out the window at its life changing-ness and my ability to relate to what was happening, if slightly.
I fell back into conversation with my three companions, and soon struck a bet with Alex. I bet him two dollars that Jake Gyllenhaal is pronounced gil-ehn-hall and he bet me his soul that it is pronounced jill-ehn-hall. Our waitress said it was gil-ehn-hall, and I looked demandingly at Alex for his soul. "We have to wait!" He protested. He just doesn't want to give me his soul.
When Anthony dropped me off at home, I leaned in the window of the Pearl.
"I want your soul." I said to him, and left.
The smell of the morning hit my lungs as the garage door grinded upwards towards the ceiling. I clicked the "unlock" button on my keychain and stepped into my small, silver Nissan. It was cooler in the Nissan, and I was grateful. Even though it was still early, the humidity in the air made it hotter, and the dry, cool air of the car surrounded me like water.
I rifled through my CD case, since my iPod was still on the base up in my room. I had no time to wait on it to finish updating - I had to get to work. I grabbed Nine Inch Nails' The Fragile (right) and pulled out the shitty rap Chase had been listening to previously. "T.N.T vs. T.N." I mused aloud, reading the Sharpie scrawled across the CD's smooth surface. Carelessly, I threw it back into the center console, closed the garage and drove to work.
"Do you have a good trivia of the day?" Dorothy was asking not an hour later. "Mm-mmm," I said, shaking my head as I set out the scones. "I'll grab a Trivial Pursuit card, though." I pulled out the cards and drew a few, none of them really satisfying me. "Here's one," I said finally, throwing a card her way. "'What is rolled in the sport of birling?'" I read aloud. "'A log,'" I answered my own question. She kind of laughed, and perused the card. Then she began to write.
"What -" she wrote, and I thought she was going to put down my question. "- type of comedy -" she paused. "How do you spell 'comedy'?" she asked. "That's right," I said, nodding at the writing she scrawled in BriteSticks on the chalk board. " - is Waiting for Godot?" Here she paused again. "Are plays in quotes or underlined? I can never remember." I wasn't sure either, but I was pretty sure it was underlined, and said as such.
"'What type of comedy is Waiting for Godot?'" I read. "What's the answer?" Dorothy looked at me. "You've never read it?" I shook my head. "Oh. Well it's a comedy of the absurd, or tragic." I shrugged, storing the answer in case anyone wanted to answer it.
Finally off work, and a couple hours after that, I was with Anthony again. He rasterbated a new picture for his walls - Bjork. We rasterbated another picture together, a different album cover of hers, the Medulla one. We talked about our frusterations at work, among other things.
The doorbell rang and the night changed entirely.
Alex was at the door, and he came up with purpose. Anthony's mother reminded us that Larry and Keith were expecting a video from us, and were dissapointed that there were no videos. The next half hour or so were spent, laughing, filming, watching ridiculous footage, making fun of my laugh, and editing. The newest video reflects a time like our old videos, and it's good.
Nick called around eight, saying he wanted to go get something to eat. So we all agreed, and Nick came over. A few minutes later, a car stopped in front of the house. I glanced out the window, and wasn't sure who was in the car, or whose car it was. The person got out of the car, and of course it was Nick. He was driving a Mercedes! I was so surprised, I wondered where the car came from.
"The Black Pearl?" He asked, referring to the car. "It's diesel. It's a piece of crap." Apparently, his boss wouldn't let him ride his motorcycle back home in the lightning, so he lent him the "Black Pearl" to get back.
We all piled in the Black Pearl, after a few more moments of silly editing, and drove to Chili's. I glanced at the dash and noticed a book. "What book is that?" I called up to Alex and Anthony in the front. Nick reached up front and grabbed it for me, handing it back to me without a glance at the cover. The cover paralyzed me.
Waiting for Godot.
I could hardly believe it, here was this book I'd never heard of that I just learned about this morning, in my hands. Immediately I began to read it. It was fascinating, I could hardly see it, but I wanted to read it like no other book. I waited until we were at Chili's, then began to read again. I stopped reading it shortly, only able to stare distantly out the window at its life changing-ness and my ability to relate to what was happening, if slightly.
I fell back into conversation with my three companions, and soon struck a bet with Alex. I bet him two dollars that Jake Gyllenhaal is pronounced gil-ehn-hall and he bet me his soul that it is pronounced jill-ehn-hall. Our waitress said it was gil-ehn-hall, and I looked demandingly at Alex for his soul. "We have to wait!" He protested. He just doesn't want to give me his soul.
When Anthony dropped me off at home, I leaned in the window of the Pearl.
"I want your soul." I said to him, and left.