in between time
i got 85 euro dollars sitting upright on my desk, in a phat paperclip. a reminder that my buddy marco shipped me a ton of books from his place and i have yet to pay him back. (why he gives me more shit when he knows i don't have one nanometer of space left in my bag is beyond me.) he wrote it off b/c it costs nearly a billion dollars for me to do an overseas money transfer. it ain't worth it, he said. well, he actually probably said something like: "my dear, don't think of it. enjoy the books; it's payment enough." or maybe he said, "you can take me out to an extravagent dinner when you come next time to visit me."
i figured i'd roll up the dough nice and tight, tight enough to shove it...in an envelope or a box with other stuff--like personally double-hand-dipped chocolate pretzels or something equally silly and amazing. he seems to think the italian authorities can't be trusted and the package would never make it to his house. i wonder if it'd make it to his apt. in cambridge.... psht, maybe the red coats are equally thieving. i guess i'll just keep the money for a while, the constant reminder that i have a friend far enough away that it's near impossible to repay my debt.
my house is popping and creaking. it's cold. i'm tired. and it'll be colder at 1am when i'm really tired. the idea of work in the morning makes me remember the nights before 3rd grade book reports. sounds like a good idea till it's Time. then...then...just don't wanna. it's not more rational than that.
it's always like this after a holiday weekend. the spending time with vin, friends in the romper room, myself, late late nights. a tiny vacation. it's tough rejoining the ranks. always always the moving back to "useful workaday" mode is as much a change in attitude as a change in sleep patterns. but soon, you settle into your work and as the hour hand grinds by 9am you hear steve exclaim: "HEY, STACE!" or some derivative, all boucing caps and italics, as he speeds by your hovel the same eager-to-get-to-work way every morning, overcoat already off and slung over the crook of his elbow he's so jovial, so Ready to Start The Day. you drag your head around to catch his back shoe leaving the vicinity. he yells something strange and sarcastic from his office and you're all snarky laughter. then helen sneaks by. you work for another five minutes before you bother her about something related to an idea, a drink after work, an errand before lunch. then tim.... before you even get out "how was your weekend?" he tells you: "ooooooooooh, just something." you forget to find out about his latest recipe. then the black-clad mt, with the great skin and even better 3-minute neck massage, comes by. just in time. does his wife know about his wandering massages? and >>phfoof<< you've already forgotten you didn't want to give the book report. you're up there in front of the class and despite the cracking voice and flaming cheeks, the moment is all you. and, as soon as it's over, you already have forgotten your aversion to the whole thing. you wonder what's the bid deal. maybe you think: man, i must be some kinda lucky. but you can't put your finger on why or how. it just feels good to slink back into comfort for a little while.
i figured i'd roll up the dough nice and tight, tight enough to shove it...in an envelope or a box with other stuff--like personally double-hand-dipped chocolate pretzels or something equally silly and amazing. he seems to think the italian authorities can't be trusted and the package would never make it to his house. i wonder if it'd make it to his apt. in cambridge.... psht, maybe the red coats are equally thieving. i guess i'll just keep the money for a while, the constant reminder that i have a friend far enough away that it's near impossible to repay my debt.
my house is popping and creaking. it's cold. i'm tired. and it'll be colder at 1am when i'm really tired. the idea of work in the morning makes me remember the nights before 3rd grade book reports. sounds like a good idea till it's Time. then...then...just don't wanna. it's not more rational than that.
it's always like this after a holiday weekend. the spending time with vin, friends in the romper room, myself, late late nights. a tiny vacation. it's tough rejoining the ranks. always always the moving back to "useful workaday" mode is as much a change in attitude as a change in sleep patterns. but soon, you settle into your work and as the hour hand grinds by 9am you hear steve exclaim: "HEY, STACE!" or some derivative, all boucing caps and italics, as he speeds by your hovel the same eager-to-get-to-work way every morning, overcoat already off and slung over the crook of his elbow he's so jovial, so Ready to Start The Day. you drag your head around to catch his back shoe leaving the vicinity. he yells something strange and sarcastic from his office and you're all snarky laughter. then helen sneaks by. you work for another five minutes before you bother her about something related to an idea, a drink after work, an errand before lunch. then tim.... before you even get out "how was your weekend?" he tells you: "ooooooooooh, just something." you forget to find out about his latest recipe. then the black-clad mt, with the great skin and even better 3-minute neck massage, comes by. just in time. does his wife know about his wandering massages? and >>phfoof<< you've already forgotten you didn't want to give the book report. you're up there in front of the class and despite the cracking voice and flaming cheeks, the moment is all you. and, as soon as it's over, you already have forgotten your aversion to the whole thing. you wonder what's the bid deal. maybe you think: man, i must be some kinda lucky. but you can't put your finger on why or how. it just feels good to slink back into comfort for a little while.
posted by stacy muszynski at 6:47 PM
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