We met up on bikes while the sun was going down, we were early for the bad movie, so we slurped shakes in the BK parking lot across the street til it was time. Anchorman was terrible great, lobotomizing fun, but the previews were even more so. I want to see the animated shark movie, the White Castle movie, and the cab movie with Queen Latifah, but not the cab movie with Jamie Foxx and Tom Cruise. I'm not feeling hi-brow entertainment these days. I'm feeling discount night at City North 14 Multiplex.
Back on the bikes, they went home, I went to Kinkos for important faxing, saw my bandmate Al, who had sweated through his shirt with coffee fueled anxiety, as usual. I went over to JR's for lemonade, stole two cigarettes, borrowed a Gil Scott Heron record, left. Back on the bike. I held JR's bike while he went into the liquor store. Kids who really were just kids, rolling en masse (Denali, Celica, tricked out Cutlass) hung in the parking lot and greeted one another with a fluid and immaculate shake with butterfly hands that surrendered into a chest pound below the chains. A gentrified local exited the store and wiped out, flat onto his back, on a puddle, soiling his pleat-fronts and splintering his 12-pack of Lite. Everyone laughed, including me.
Back on the bike. Out in the city, everyone is on a date, and all the dates are going to parties, on bikes, on polished toes peeking from sandal heels, all the girls with bare shoulders. It must be a great thing to love those girls.Posted by Jessica at July 17, 2004 01:56 AM | TrackBack