This weekend I will travel to the northern part of my state, where I will search under cars parked on hills, wheels to the curb, for my cousin’s cats. The cats apparently ran through an open door and into the dusky city of disappointed beauty, San Francisco. I was going there for a visit anyway, to drive cousin and cats to a mountain hideaway for their recuperation and voluntary imprisonment in natural beauty. It will be an interesting weekend, I bet. Perhaps I will see visions rising from towers. Or a fleet of reindeer carrying nothing but a carriage, for their leader is underground, chasing rats through tunnels.
Besides up-to-date NBA mock drafts and the spread of false rumors, another benefit of the Internet is the easy availability of radio stations in cities where I used to live. Minneapolis is one of these places. I’m listening to one of their stations on my headphones, here in Los Angeles, where the new Mayor-elect has big plans. But the sound in my ears is from far away. I’m reminded of the accents and the quaint love of detachment. I’m reminded of the glory of pop songs. And now they're playing Gershwin. I’m getting sleepy.
Yes, I've changed the blog name. It's temporary. It's always temporary.
I like this writer's writing. I can't wait for the book.
3 comments:
I'm glad to hear that Cousin has found a place to be after his ordeal.
In solidarity with your feelings on the the NBA playoffs, I'm eating yogurt.
With a fork.
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