absolutely random
The day was spent in contemplation - of the sort that paints the world in sepia and monochrome, punctuated by adroit dual-syallabic undertones.
Uh-huh.
So I went and had myself a hightea thingy, or whatever it was you called the nebulous stretch of time between your lunch and the gathering dusk (luncheon? linner? dunch?). The sky was (and still is) a perfect brew of melancholy: sorry clouds and mellow raindrops, chasing cars and departing smiles.
I sat by the window alone - watching raindrops smash themselves against the impassive glass, watching them slide downwards to wherever it was that raindrops go to die.
I watched a young boy dashed across the road, to the honks of a dozen angry drivers; a snow white pigeon perched on the cables flapped its wings frantically when it slipped and almost fell (I laughed out loud); a wiry young boy in a YMCA tee implored apathetic passerbys to donate to his little white box; a cute highschol boy fumbled with his wallet at the Cheers outlet; a skater boy did a flip with his skateboard to the applause of his mates; a cute guy sat quietly in the corner (is he looking at me?), glancing left and right constantly; a cute boy.......
Uh-hum.
So my mind wandered into vistas of harlems and hegemonies. Which is a colloquial way of describing how I'd brutally conscript cute boys into my planetary Harlem, if I were a despotic planetary Hegemon. (coughs)
Uh-uh.
(Back to the melancholic sky.)
(Which is still really gay.)
(I meant gray.)
But nobody judges the rain, nor the clouds, or its aesthetically-pleasing flow across the heavens. Nobody cares much for the sky, anyway, but for its continued adherence to the laws of the passing day. Would anyone notice the tattered-looking piece of cloud hanging behind the herd of healthy, fluffy ones? Was its fate to be swallowed into the deepening night, insignificant?
I pondered its fate.
Uh-hoooooooh.
Uh-huh.
So I went and had myself a hightea thingy, or whatever it was you called the nebulous stretch of time between your lunch and the gathering dusk (luncheon? linner? dunch?). The sky was (and still is) a perfect brew of melancholy: sorry clouds and mellow raindrops, chasing cars and departing smiles.
I sat by the window alone - watching raindrops smash themselves against the impassive glass, watching them slide downwards to wherever it was that raindrops go to die.
I watched a young boy dashed across the road, to the honks of a dozen angry drivers; a snow white pigeon perched on the cables flapped its wings frantically when it slipped and almost fell (I laughed out loud); a wiry young boy in a YMCA tee implored apathetic passerbys to donate to his little white box; a cute highschol boy fumbled with his wallet at the Cheers outlet; a skater boy did a flip with his skateboard to the applause of his mates; a cute guy sat quietly in the corner (is he looking at me?), glancing left and right constantly; a cute boy.......
Uh-hum.
So my mind wandered into vistas of harlems and hegemonies. Which is a colloquial way of describing how I'd brutally conscript cute boys into my planetary Harlem, if I were a despotic planetary Hegemon. (coughs)
Uh-uh.
(Back to the melancholic sky.)
(Which is still really gay.)
(I meant gray.)
But nobody judges the rain, nor the clouds, or its aesthetically-pleasing flow across the heavens. Nobody cares much for the sky, anyway, but for its continued adherence to the laws of the passing day. Would anyone notice the tattered-looking piece of cloud hanging behind the herd of healthy, fluffy ones? Was its fate to be swallowed into the deepening night, insignificant?
I pondered its fate.
Uh-hoooooooh.