car that goes boom (anchorsong) wrote,
car that goes boom
anchorsong

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float on

i was recently offered a job in the desert southwest, and was set on packing up my two backpacks and flying into vegas as soon as possible. there are a couple of main reasons for wanting to go. firstly, there's ben, whom i'd love to see. i can spend every waking and non-waking minute with this boy because he's just as geekalicios as i am. he's the only person who loves the game of scrabble as much as i do, and the only person who offers any sort of battle. we've spent days playing the game, drinking budweisers, and trash-talking like no others. and we can speak about music till doomsday, and lie in bed forever trying to annihilate as many new york times crossword puzzles as possible. and secondly, with going comes a surplus of money, which i undoubtedly need.

but i'm not going. there's more of alaska for me to see; more camping, more backpacking. and i told myself i'd see a grizzly or two before i left. moose and caribou have become commonplace. they no longer electrify me the way they used to. i'm even impervious to the foxes in the park. i missed a great outing this weekend to the hot springs about three hours away. it was a girls weekend, and because i couldn't coax anyone into working my shift today, i was stuck here directing the elderly to the restrooms, and seating their eager behinds.

the skin on my finger tips is callousing and flaking due to four hours of guitar playing with rob. if we make this four hours a habit, we could easily play open mic or another showy event without feeling too much like fools. but what i really wish i was doing right now is riding the C train to cherifs fourth floor apartment on the upper west side of manhattan for drum lessons. my sticks are lying solemnly next to my bed, and haven't been touched in days. if civilization accepts me come september, i must seek a new instructor. for now, i have pillows with which to strike, and a brand new mattress with the perfect amount of backlash.

and my first salsa lesson ended up being a huge flop. while i was waiting for taty, this adorable pocket-sized woman from columbia to begin, i took to a cushy loveseat, and perused thru a dictionary i saw lying about. i ended up falling asleep on this snug of a sofa, in fetal position, with one arm wrapped around the dictionary as if it were a baby. salsa lessons marched on as i snoozed, nobody bothered to wake me, and i felt terribly ashamed when i opened my eyes, yawning and slumberous.

i'm addicted to modest mouse's, float on. it consumes every inch of my body, and even awakes me when i'm seemingly out-cold. some part of my body will start flailing to the beat, and when that happens, it's impossible for me to stop. something similar used to occur when i first discovered coldplay's, yellow. but instead of dancing madly, i used to lie nailed down to my cold hardwood floor in brighton when my roommate wasn't around, and stare at the ceiling expressionless because that's the only reaction the music evoked. but at the same time it was dominating and i felt so alive.

this evenings stoned edition of horseshoes was hilarious. in my case, it felt more like bowling because none of my tosses received air and arched like the others. instead, they skidded across the dirt, as if i were skipping rocks. so i've learned one thing this evening, kendra + horseshoes = horrendous combo.
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