This was by far my ma’s most dubious “someone died/got murdered” story
Month: August 2017
This was by far my ma’s most dubious “someone died/got murdered” story
Someone in Fresno
The young woman in the short orange dress had brown skin and bouncy, curly hair. She was beautiful in that sense of seeing someone and knowing nothing about them. Anyway, I glanced, and she noticed. She walked toward me.
“You heading that way?”
She pointed down the road.
“Nah, back on the freeway,” I told her.
“You sure?”
That was a weird thing to say. I didn’t trust it.
“Yeah,” I said. “Gotta keep going.”
She made this face, like “eh,” and walked down the way she pointed. No hesitation, not a care.
I finished pumping gas and fired up Google Maps. I had to go down that way to get back on the freeway, so I drove on. I passed her and looked ahead. It was a crummy sort of street, the kind I grew up knowing to avoid. Rundown motels, barbed wire, bars on all the windows. Took another moment or two to see the women all up and down the place. One middle-aged blonde raised her hand forward and twirled it, like that Rihanna GIF. Nearby were the shady guys and a car or two that was pulled over to talk to them.
I checked out my rearview
near the end of a block. I spotted the woman in the orange dress one last time. I missed that she was carrying a styrofoam cup when we spoke. Red straw, some design that was a blob of color from that distance. Probably from some local burger place.
That’s how I ended my visit to Fresno. It was hot, unbelievably high. The kind of heat you can only feel in the central valley.
Someone in Fresno
The young woman in the short orange dress had brown skin and bouncy, curly hair. She was beautiful in that sense of seeing someone and knowing nothing about them. Anyway, I glanced, and she noticed. She walked toward me.
“You heading that way?”
She pointed down the road.
“Nah, back on the freeway,” I told her.
“You sure?”
That was a weird thing to say. I didn’t trust it.
“Yeah,” I said. “Gotta keep going.”
She made this face, like “eh,” and walked down the way she pointed. No hesitation, not a care.
I finished pumping gas and fired up Google Maps. I had to go down that way to get back on the freeway, so I drove on. I passed her and looked ahead. It was a crummy sort of street, the kind I grew up knowing to avoid. Rundown motels, barbed wire, bars on all the windows. Took another moment or two to see the women all up and down the place. One middle-aged blonde raised her hand forward and twirled it, like that Rihanna GIF. Nearby were the shady guys and a car or two that was pulled over to talk to them.
I checked out my rearview
near the end of a block. I spotted the woman in the orange dress one last time. I missed that she was carrying a styrofoam cup when we spoke. Red straw, some design that was a blob of color from that distance. Probably from some local burger place.
That’s how I ended my visit to Fresno. It was hot, unbelievably high. The kind of heat you can only feel in the central valley.
Everyone who worked on the film has a Carrie story, but the sweetest and most heartbreaking one belongs to Isaac:
“One of my favorite things that would happen from time to time on set would be when Carrie would sing old songs,” he says. “Whenever that would happen I would offer her my hand and we would waltz around the set – on a starship, in a Rebel base, on an alien planet, and she would sing and we would dance. So surreal and beautiful to think about now. For all of her delicious, wicked humor and fiery energy she also had such sweet grace. I miss her dearly.”
cool i love just fucking crying forever and never not crying (gif source)
Everyone who worked on the film has a Carrie story, but the sweetest and most heartbreaking one belongs to Isaac:
“One of my favorite things that would happen from time to time on set would be when Carrie would sing old songs,” he says. “Whenever that would happen I would offer her my hand and we would waltz around the set – on a starship, in a Rebel base, on an alien planet, and she would sing and we would dance. So surreal and beautiful to think about now. For all of her delicious, wicked humor and fiery energy she also had such sweet grace. I miss her dearly.”
cool i love just fucking crying forever and never not crying (gif source)
Some Alan Watts snippets and video game existence.
(Source: https://www.youtube.com/)
Some Alan Watts snippets and video game existence.
First times
I’ll be taking a work trip to a place called Sheffield in September. It’ll be my first time travelling across an ocean, first time on a different continent, first time in Europe, first time in the UK, first time in Sheffield (and Edinburgh, and Paris for a bit). I always mark first times. The first time often leaves the biggest impression, the most vivid memories.
My first time in Alaska, I almost blew out a tire. It was summer and the light never disappeared from the sky. I found a car shop near Denali where the guy only charged me $20 to swap out the bad tire (”tell them they shouldn’t leave winter tires on during the summer,” he said). I saw a moose for the first time, too. It was a huge animal.
My first time flying east of the Rockies, my first time in and around Chicago, my heart was shattered in an immeasurable but predictable fashion (not for the first time). I get a lump in my throat just mentioning it so I’m stopping here.
My first time in Canada, I ate poutine for the first time, because of course, and wandered into Whistler for the first time. I think most people wouldn’t just wander from Vancouver to Whistler, but there I was. It was the first time that I drove my car onto a ferry, which took us across to Vancouver island. It was my first time driving on an island.
My first time in Mexico, I was four? But I do remember my first time listening to “Knockin’ Boots” by Candyman some years later, which was in my uncle Miguel’s little red pickup truck while he drove down some stone-paved street, and between the bumpy road and and the sound system it was the first time it felt like a car would fall apart while I was in it. I remember my first road trip from California to Texas to Jalisco. It was my first time seeing border officers blatantly ask for a bribe to allow us through checkpoints.
My first time here, posting these things, I was here in the bay area, then it was my first time in Oregon and Washington while I posted more things, then it was my first time (but not last) returning to a place where I’ve already been, except it was nothing at all like the first time, and I’m glad it wasn’t.
First times
I’ll be taking a work trip to a place called Sheffield in September. It’ll be my first time travelling across an ocean, first time on a different continent, first time in Europe, first time in the UK, first time in Sheffield (and Edinburgh, and Paris for a bit). I always mark first times. The first time often leaves the biggest impression, the most vivid memories.
My first time in Alaska, I almost blew out a tire. It was summer and the light never disappeared from the sky. I found a car shop near Denali where the guy only charged me $20 to swap out the bad tire (”tell them they shouldn’t leave winter tires on during the summer,” he said). I saw a moose for the first time, too. It was a huge animal.
My first time flying east of the Rockies, my first time in and around Chicago, my heart was shattered in an immeasurable but predictable fashion (not for the first time). I get a lump in my throat just mentioning it so I’m stopping here.
My first time in Canada, I ate poutine for the first time, because of course, and wandered into Whistler for the first time. I think most people wouldn’t just wander from Vancouver to Whistler, but there I was. It was the first time that I drove my car onto a ferry, which took us across to Vancouver island. It was my first time driving on an island.
My first time in Mexico, I was four? But I do remember my first time listening to “Knockin’ Boots” by Candyman some years later, which was in my uncle Miguel’s little red pickup truck while he drove down some stone-paved street, and between the bumpy road and and the sound system it was the first time it felt like a car would fall apart while I was in it. I remember my first road trip from California to Texas to Jalisco. It was my first time seeing border officers blatantly ask for a bribe to allow us through checkpoints.
My first time here, posting these things, I was here in the bay area, then it was my first time in Oregon and Washington while I posted more things, then it was my first time (but not last) returning to a place where I’ve already been, except it was nothing at all like the first time, and I’m glad it wasn’t.