Wednesday, February 04, 2004

Dreams Are Better When Your...

It almost doesn't matter the city, how big or how insignificantly small, the weather, the condition of the streets, the tenacity of the hobos or the uplift nose of the trophy wife glidding out of Neimans-I love downtown. Old buildings mingling and rubbing elbows with newly renovated hotels. It's a sobering blend; a remainder to remember, to reflect, on what could have been and what in turn is.

I walk with my hands in my pocket while dashing from kiask to kiask allowing the rain to fall as it wills on my head, past brick pavement to concrete pathways, side glances and smiles at the rushing faces around me, onward I tarry to Starbucks and then to Schlotzskys.

I'm downtown. I never want to leave. I want to buy a loft right over there in that cool old building. I want to fill it with books and art and tooexpensivefurniture. I want the art to be pieces I bought at my downtown neighbors art gallas where we drink loads of wine and discuss the funniest top 10 SNL's ever and off course Nietzche(or anything deep and philospohical to pretend to care overly about) and then other pieces I had shipped here from Bulgaria or Czech or Italy (something acquired during my most recent trip no doubt). I want us to listen to Serge Gainsbourg and Bjork during these shin digs. I want a pile of those books to be a big stash of my unsigned Pultizer Prize novel I plan on giving in homemade decorated boxes for Christmas to all my distant family members that wouldn't buy it because it was a whopping $25 dollars. I want Christmas to be at my cool downtown loft because i'll have decorated a sad douglas fur with stringed popcorn and metallic stars and a few ornaments from mine my boyfriends childhood. I'll also have fresh baked pastries by the fireplace from the bakery downstairs and fruit and cheese from the Market that I walk too every weekend, so breakfast will be a breeze. And when it's not Christmas morning, i'll drink black cups of coffee and read the NYT that is delivered right to my door mat. I want my downtown to have the back drop of mountains. And I want the mountains to be peaked with snow that better gosh darn glisten at sunset.

I unlock the car door, throw the bag full of sandwhiches in the passengers seat and wedge the coffee next to the emergency break. Take a look behind me, wait for the cars to pass, reverse, go forward, into first, stop, and soon i'm driving out of downtown and back into the world of what is.

Elefant is rocking my world. Al Sharpton is cracking me up. But i'll get to that later or as soon as NPR has the sound clip up on their web site. And go back to "Department of Public Seducing", my drivers license picture should be on here soon.

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