swimming, fishing and the hope to get to the ocean tonight.

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The wine needed about three minutes to kick in. It was a 1990 Chateau Simard Saint-Emilion and it tasted a bit like that reddish dry cork. He did not have any real wine glasses and so that imitation plastic cup had to be it tonight. The wine needed about three minutes to kick in. And it did kick in so incredibly well. So well. He pulled up his far too tight queen-chastity underwear, rushed out the door and down the stairs, and past the barking door and out and onto the street and into the storm of a snow. He let himself fall right onto his blank face, into the freshly fallen powder, his arms open, like that guy who could see his house from up there, in that Richard Prince painting. He began to swim towards the street, the edge, the parked cars. His naked skin was like this of a chameleon, it seemed, it began to turn closer and closer to the shade of the snow. He had to use the space between the cars, just to make sure there would be enough depth in the powder to carry his almost naked body. He swam down the street, towards fifth avenue... in the darkness, slowly turning into a freshly frozen piece of human. The lights of oncoming traffic avoiding him just barely, honking, as if they had never seen a street snow swimmer before. Okay, not really. He could not swim. It was good that the temperature fell as low as it has. The two desks fished out of the high-school dumpster were very happy to let go of a half a pound of twenty year old chewing gum crust. Oh, and the snot also crumbled really well. Dirty little desks. I am using one to write this entry, actually. It is much cleaner now, maybe not perfect, but definitely cleaner. "Come later." said the super, as he was pushing along the snow plow on the sidewalk near the giant dumpster. I think I will walk out there and fish some more soon. It would be nice to score some free chairs perhaps, the names of loved girls and hated teachers carved into them. Maybe AC/DC, or KISS... yeah... And the chewing gum comes off best when frozen... The legs of the tables will need to be seriously cleaned... but that's another weekend project. I think I am going to go back to drawing now. Bubble letters on tiny pieces of paper. Majik. Over and over again. and again and again and again... Maybe the giant underground current will carry me towards the ocean tonight. That would be most wonderful. I bet the waves are more quiet on such a snowy night. They should be, no?

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This page contains a single entry by Witold published on January 22, 2005 6:23 PM.

With the bear at the National Gallery of Art in Washington DC, on a friday afternoon in January, before tourists completely overrun the place. was the previous entry in this blog.

The Pigeon, the snow and the invisible lake, are the same thing as the packed subway and the slush lakes to come... is the next entry in this blog.

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