the world has turned and left me here

ceci n'est pas une pipe

Resurrecting an old bad habit, well it was never really a habit in the first place, I walked into Cliff's Smokeshop the other day and bought myself a shiny new pipe. Figure I need one before this weekend...going to Chicago with Yun to see my favorite band Blonde Redhead. No better way to fully grok a place than with an energetic friend and a pipe.

So I sat out on the porch in the dark thinking and smoking this treasonous pipe of mine. My college neighbors came and went. I've never really talked to them. Across the way, my other neighbors were making horrible sounds that I at first construed as an electrocution, but they could very well have been making a time machine. The windows were covered over with tin foil, as they always have been, though occasionally a crack would widen between the sheets and I would catch sight of the stark glaring light bulb inside. Sounds of sawing, drilling. If inside they were hacking apart human torsoes it would be none of my business because, by golly, this is America. We all have our own business here. Thank you very much now go away.

A cool night when everything is silent and listening down into itself. A plane passes over silently, leaving a contrail beside the moon. Far of whoosh of cars on the interstate. Sounds that are always there but you're just never listening.