Monday, August 23, 2004
Monday, August 23, 2004
Wheather
Its starts differently each time. Sometimes its cold, sometimes its hot, and sometimes its both.The clouds rush over the horizan violently. Blue, grey, and black all come to a crashing head and choke out the sun. The heat of the day increases with humidity, a feeling of dread waftfs among the people about to be drenched as the crack thunder sounds in the distance."Is it gonna rain?""Is it gonna hail?""Will my car be okay?"Contagious and uunnecessary, something spreads to people. Swifty it jumps from ear to ear, and repeated mouth to mouth. Rain brings out odd feelings in people rarely seen in day today life.A woman sits alone on a stairway. A smoldering three inches of chemicals and cotton burning in her hand and occasionaly sucks those chemicals into her lungs. Her thoughts mired in ideas of loved one and classes. A drop of rain, so perfectly placed, descends from heaven, gains more and more speed and is blown every which way by the four winds. Until finally, in the blink of an eye, it hits the tip of the cigarette and chokes out its insignificant life.The woman curses her luck and throws the unfinished piece of paper onto the ground. It rolls on the grouund and ends up in a crack in the sidewalk and the thing that people have been dreading since the clouds appeared.The rain begins its assault. The crack the cigarette was in swells with water and it travels like a boat to an unnknown destination. The thunder has increased and people are compelled to move quickly in order to prevent wet socks, shoes, shirts and bras. Some try to act tough and act slower, others hide in buildings to wait it out. Some just cover their heads with newspapers and plod on.The rain rages on. It crashes and it soaks. It ruins and it kills and it heals and it soothes. It puddles up and wears away, causing mudslides and reinforcing hurricanes. It makes crops grow and makes them die, its a paradox and a mystery, worshipped by some cultures, feared by others.As the rain pours down it gets more and more instense. Like a raging alcoholic, it smashes arounnd and stomps and screeches, and then, like an alcoholic, it stops. It stops and it clears up and begs forgivness of the people its hurt. It gives a bright sunny day to make up for it.People remove their newspapers, light up more cigarettes, and the day goes on.
posted by Dan # 2:38 PM 0 comments
Wheather
Its starts differently each time. Sometimes its cold, sometimes its hot, and sometimes its both.The clouds rush over the horizan violently. Blue, grey, and black all come to a crashing head and choke out the sun. The heat of the day increases with humidity, a feeling of dread waftfs among the people about to be drenched as the crack thunder sounds in the distance."Is it gonna rain?""Is it gonna hail?""Will my car be okay?"Contagious and uunnecessary, something spreads to people. Swifty it jumps from ear to ear, and repeated mouth to mouth. Rain brings out odd feelings in people rarely seen in day today life.A woman sits alone on a stairway. A smoldering three inches of chemicals and cotton burning in her hand and occasionaly sucks those chemicals into her lungs. Her thoughts mired in ideas of loved one and classes. A drop of rain, so perfectly placed, descends from heaven, gains more and more speed and is blown every which way by the four winds. Until finally, in the blink of an eye, it hits the tip of the cigarette and chokes out its insignificant life.The woman curses her luck and throws the unfinished piece of paper onto the ground. It rolls on the grouund and ends up in a crack in the sidewalk and the thing that people have been dreading since the clouds appeared.The rain begins its assault. The crack the cigarette was in swells with water and it travels like a boat to an unnknown destination. The thunder has increased and people are compelled to move quickly in order to prevent wet socks, shoes, shirts and bras. Some try to act tough and act slower, others hide in buildings to wait it out. Some just cover their heads with newspapers and plod on.The rain rages on. It crashes and it soaks. It ruins and it kills and it heals and it soothes. It puddles up and wears away, causing mudslides and reinforcing hurricanes. It makes crops grow and makes them die, its a paradox and a mystery, worshipped by some cultures, feared by others.As the rain pours down it gets more and more instense. Like a raging alcoholic, it smashes arounnd and stomps and screeches, and then, like an alcoholic, it stops. It stops and it clears up and begs forgivness of the people its hurt. It gives a bright sunny day to make up for it.People remove their newspapers, light up more cigarettes, and the day goes on.
posted by Dan # 2:38 PM 0 comments
posted by Dan at
3:13 PM
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