tumble weed
for much of the summer it has been a full house. nice people coming and going, usually between three and six there, not counting myself, but all polite enough that it hasn't been stressful. well, not to me anyway, but i sleep at the studio at least twice a week. this week however, because of a combination of working hard and not being in a social mood, i stayed three nights in a row at the studio. when i went home last night the place was eerily quiet. the two rooms where the guests had been were completely empty save for a bed in one. chris' room was dark and quiet, the door wide open and only the pulsing glow of his desktop computer. it felt like one of those films where someone wakes up after a long time to find civilization as he or she once knew it has vanished. the oddest detail was a full pot of chile on the stove. i tasted it. mmm, still warm. i assumed chris must have just stepped out for a bit. i helped myself to a small bowl (there was so much and it was blue-ribbon good!). i read a story from the new yorker. i cleaned house awhile. when i looked at the clock it was nearly three am. i fell asleep on my new bed and in the morning there was still no one.
