May 18th, 2003

Self-Portrait 3

(no subject)

To replace my entertainment center, I need:

--A three-tier TV stand

--A CD wallet that will hold 200 CD's

--A DVD rack that will hold at least 150 DVD's. 200 would probably be better.
Self-Portrait 3

Holy crap!

There's a new Buffy game coming out for the Xbox that will let you play as everybody's favorite nice little antidote to middle class morality, Faith.

My world is now complete.
Self-Portrait 3

(no subject)

Sunday night after graduation. Tuscaloosa's dead.

Just took the walk back from Poobie's house, and I saw nothing, no one. A cop car a block down the road, passing by quiet and slow. The white cars they have now are like beacons, like those glowing jellyfish. UP's used to have gray cars, like smoke. If it weren't for the reflective stripes you never would've known those things were there. In an urban environment, gray blends. Dark gray, dull, with a hint of pewter in it. Not the color pewter but the color of actual unfinished pewter. White throws back too much light. Black is a noticeable absence of that same light. The gray is a perfect enough balance that the eyes just kind of slip right over.

No lights on in anybody's windows. No conversations coming from the houses and apartments I pass by. No one on their way to the bars, because none of the bars open anymore. Everybody celebrated last night and Friday, so now they're graduated and gone. No one's watching television, no one's cooking, no one's talking, no one's up and about. Everyone's in bed. Midnight Sunday and we've closed up shop.

Muggy as shit out. The weather doesn't give us a heat index at night, but that's bullshit down here. It's 70 degrees but it feels like a smooth 80. Not uncomfortable, but you know it's there because it still makes you sweat. I walk around in this lonesome, quiet world, and I can't decide if I like it or not. I can feel the sweat rolling down my body under my heavy black shirt. My keys and my mints are in my right pocket, so I rattle with every other step, like Chow-Yun Fat in A Better Tomorrow.

It doesn't much bother me, the feeling alone. But tonight, it feels like everybody else is alone, too.