This weekend usn's & yousn's planned a Great Escape: Heading southward to eat meatloaf and peach cobbler baked by caring moms, listen to books on tapes written by lesbians, sing along to Faith No More and Stereophonics and World Party and UB40, play eleventythousand games of Rummikub and cook our top epidermal layer clean off.
One ancient Rolling Rock in a can made me sleepy, the babies in our presence repeatedly sang "UH-OH, UH-OH" about everything: seashells, big waves, the dogs eating animal crackers right out of their grimy little hands. Lots of fat smokers in bikinis. We read shitty books, we drew pictures of bunny rabbits in the sand. We wrote our names. And dug huge holes.
I came back reluctantly yesterday, my nose hot and the truck smelled like feet and barbeque. So reluctantly came back did I that, screw it, we're headed down next weekend. Sing it loud, sing it proud: the city got nothin' to offer. The thought of snowflakes makes me a little mopey.