mei

it's not as hot today as it has been lately. there are high, wispy clouds in the sky. the trees rustle like water from a faucet running while it gets cold. the midafternoon light is weaker than usual, like looking through a glass of water with a drop of milk in it.

i have nothing much to say, as usual. no job. no money. the constant complaining beat of those syllables echoes, someone with whom i have no desire to talk tapping me on the shoulder. my house is dirty - i should be cleaning right now. but people are sleeping, and i also don't see why i have to be the one to take responsibility for making sure our house isn't some kind of moldering shithole. well, i guess it's not quite that bad, but still.

i need to go to the mall on monday and start applying for fall jobs. people will be leaving to go back to school soon - not i. i wish i was - i feel like an idiot for wanting a year off. from what? the only thing i'm truly good at, it seems. i'm going to miss school.

when i take a shower, i usually cup my hands and hold them up to the shower head. i watch the water stream over the sides of my fingers. an offering of water back to the faucet. strange how bits of ritual make it into my basically non-spiritual day. the spray of water coats my face. i wonder if i look properly supplicant.

the reflection of sun from the back window of a turquoise chevrolet is strangely out of place. a million shining needles extend from the point of brightness. beautiful pastel corona. this, on the window of a badly washed, early eighties chevy.

oh, the irony.