Sunday, May 06, 2012

There's so much pressure in Seattle on a sunny day, my voice raspy from someone's smoke in my apartment, jaw tension extension, headache on the sleepy side of demise, but that's not what I meant to tell you. I meant to say: there's so much pressure in Seattle on a sunny day, all the excitement in the air, everyone walking around in shorts even though it's 54.2 degrees out. Or, no, not everyone is walking around in shorts – some are wearing light jackets with long pants, but soon I will be out there with a scarf and mittens. So much pressure to get out there, you know? Because it's sunny and everyone's excited, even if I'm somewhere between disastrous and done.

This guy, he's even wearing flip-flops – hand rubbing his belly and suddenly there's that feeling of wanting to rub his belly too, even though I really just want to get back in bed and close my eyes, for a long time. As long as possible. I'm leaning out, and someone leans up to say you have a nice view – but what is there view of me in my house sweatshirt, hair undone, contacts not even in yet because I'm trying to get the light directly in my eyes. By the time the guy walks by in flip-flops, my contacts are in, that's how I know he's rubbing his belly, those red shorts that fade to pink and they wear them anyway so I can wonder about their straightness.

It does actually feel a lot warmer than 54, at least appear where it usually feels colder than outside if all the windows are open, and all the windows are open except one. Let's take another look at who is walking by: wow, no one, no one at this moment. I guess it's my turn.

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