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things are: a low hum in the back of my throat, a cold breeze through the windowscreen, a formidable stack of coffeetable books. on the downside, it seems like i've already spent half of the summer with my ear pressed against an earpiece listening to these terrifically cheerful elevator melodies that make you want to rip the very skin off your teeth and choke someone with the sheer screeching insincerity of it all. on the bright side, independance day was quite satisfactory; i drove out to the valley &laid on top of the car with the stereo on, watching at least four or five different shows erupt from the hapless horizon all at once and wishing that i was in an airplane skimming through the stratosphere taking in all of the light and sound from all those gleeful explosions down below. a lot of the time i wish that i could just perch in the rafters above the patchwork of my life and just observe like a cartographer or a geographer for general changes &trends in elevation instead of getting mucked up in the thick of the action and tripping over every pothole, every dropped stitch. i think that things would be a lot easier that way. the smallest silliest things have been giving me strange reassurance lately, like spying on this great tattooed surly 40-year old man-teenager at a pizza place spreading tomato sauce &peppers on an entirely ordinary doughy crust with such precision and this odd reverence that all at once seemed to overwhelm and eclipse anything that i've attempted in my entire life. it makes me feel safe to slow down &keep that one small thing that everyone has that they treat with such infinite care - to isolate that tiny incremental window when our bodies simplify from enormously complicated breathing machines into pure resolution and those concrete walls around the heart are turned to glass and it seems like for a infinitesimal snatch of time i can feel, i can feel it all; i can look and i can watch and i can see with my naive little eyes and i think, 'yes'.
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