Sometimes I miss New Mexico, hours before the sun finally hits the ocean here and there the skies have embered out–Albuquerque as dog bowl, ordinances about light pollution.
Bay bridge music reminded me of that moment in 2008 when I gently told myself to grow up, and listened largely because there was nothing better to do. The noise in the apartment was too loud; my back hurt in the morning from sleeping on the quicksand couch.
I wanted to ask Siri how poisonous mercury really was, or whether it was normal to be afraid of it soaking through stuff, like it’s acid or something.
I have been dreaming in screenplays lately, the stage directions of post-modern blowhards exhausting me so that I stare motionless at the mousepad for the first hour of work, dreaming of my ridiculous sheets and heated floor. I’ll miss Berkeley like I miss New Mexico, briefly and with a cart-before-the-horse smile.
This is the first music video I ever remember being transfixed by.
- Letter to my world-friend
- RAC’s Ditties, Trick