Secret Pop

Mar 19, 2003

"When it's cold outside, am I here in vain?"

I got up early this morning -- hung just enough over to make that a thing for lamenting -- to take my car in for service. I paid $4.00 on the toll road to avoid nasty traffic. I was given a lift home from the service center by a nice guy who thought I was younger than I am. Enough for it to be flattering. Not so much as to be insulting. He even began trying to set me up with his brother, a tattoo artist who lives in Los Angeles. But we were both distracted by the near-collision we had with a careless minivan. I nursed the hangover for a bit. Mostly with dozing. I listened to news coverage and had unfulfilling dialogues in my head that couldn't be spoken aloud for fear of strife. I went and got a replacement knob for the temperature control on my car's air conditioner. I have been unable to crank up the heat for several days now. With the rain and my hands that are so chilly as a rule, this was a source of great duress. And shivering people sitting in the car with me were understanding on the surface, but I feared their secret wrath and/or disappointment. I picked up my car, in exchange for six hundred filthy American dollars. Then I went to my sister's house to kill the time between then and the concert we were going to see.

I was afraid we would have a lousy no-good time. Our moods were both less than perfect. But we ended up enjoying the night immensely. I even bought her a concert t-shirt. Something she would never ordinarily do for herself. I buy souvenirs almost as a rule. I don't know why. I figure the chance to commemorate will be fleeting. That's a surefire way to market to me. Another surefire way to market to me is to give me an opportunity to buy for someone else. Gift-giving is my bag. I would have it be Christmas every day, if it weren't for the inconvenience of city-wide store closures. And I do tire of the color scheme after a few weeks.

My mind is on many things.

It's not my sense of emptiness you fill with your desire.

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