Anodyne
Saturday, January 09, 2010
 

Night with the door open, afternoon rain dialled back now to light mist. Water droplets on all the parked cars outside, their surfaces shining under orange light. Neon squiggle in the window of the high-end vintage clothing store across Main. Red tail-lights. Dean Wareham's soft sad voice. All day in the office with spreadsheets and Quickbooks and my chequebook, the retail equivalent of the pulleys, knobs and switches that keep a 747 or other workhorse aircraft lumbering through the air. The sense of being aloft, of turning now and setting out across a dark continent or ocean, lights dim back in the passenger cabin, dinner carts slowly making their way up the gently canted aisles.
- posted by cjb @ 6:45 PM


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