only slightly relevant to the matter at hand; digressive
��������� �����baghdad, 2003. doesn't it sound futuristic? like a science fiction movie? ironically enough, the times regress and i see not spaceships and tunnelling machines, as in the movie "dune," but rather a battalion of biblical soldiers approaching a forbiddingly walled city - trumpets and shouts of Arabic fill the dusty air. america has not yet been discovered.what a shame.
"we'll use the Pac-Man technique," a soldier said, from an article on msn.com. "where the big dot gobbles up the little dots." bleep-bloop. i don't remember Pac-Man killing civilians to get to the blue ghosts.
this morning i am wearing my dad's silver wal-mart watch which i pilfered from him over break. he had three others sitting on his nightstand. i'm waiting for the mail, waiting for the drunkards on the bed to wake up so we can cast some light into this scenario - this harsh, floppy diorama where most everything is flat and everything else seems vague and shadow-oriented. the room could fall over at any second, pushed by a stray gust of wind, and we as small paper-doll figures would tumble out to be crushed underfoot. or maybe, imbued with some three-dimensional strength, crawl out into the hall and struggle to reach apotheosis of the higher planes -
i ramble.
it's a bright day, but sere and shockingly sparse - i woke up, looked out the window, and thought it had snowed. it was the sunlight, but not a thick, heavy brightness, a sparse, scalpel-like incision to my eyes, to which i blink, step back, and head off to the shower.
in the bathroom, the window is open a crack, but it's enough to send a welcoming breeze, like a small puppy-dog, curling at my bare toes.