New Movies Come Out on Friday.
Rain again. This time I didn't make it to the tracks. At the crosswalk, I held two cars before the second crossing line in epileptic suspense. While funny, I disliked the humor and walked to the oversized California overnight delivery box. Gave my umbrella the quick fold-down, held it by the handle's cutesy draw-string and looked laterally. Middle-aged man holding his daughter's hand as they walked into Subway, elderly couple descending a set of steps holding dragon-embroidered Chinese takeout boxes, another elderly couple ambling clumsily out of a doctor's appointment, people exiting a travel agent with propaganda and smiles, coffee drinkers holding their cups with two hands and breathing in, a woman in sandals nearly falling on the sidewalk. I smiled at the girl, offered my sweatshirt, got turned down, stared at her ass as she walked past, swore I could make out her shape underneath, and realized me, cutting a mannequin figure on the corner, absorbing the weather and wearing broken headphones. Sontag said, "The matter, the subject, is on the outside; the style is on the inside."