March 21, 2008


Driving from the hospital to my aunts home, it was no longer dawn on the clock, but it was dawn out, as Indiana won’t spring forward/fall back, and so as a result is on something shy of Greenwich Mean time. It was half past seven but it looked like a roiling cobalt 6:15, the whole city briefly alive and truckbound towards farm or site. The Pat Boone song on the weak signal ended, and as I crossed the freeway bridge that separates the city part from the woods part, I wondered what it is like to be a the rise n’ shine DJ on some micro watt’d lite-hits of the 60’s,70’s and 80’s station, back announcing “Wipe Out” (with vim) to a still darkened South Indiana. What is it to be that guy? To be working your way up at a station so small and community that after the weather, you detail the various hot lunch menus of the county schools. Who is waiting for those menus to be announced? Moms who pack lunches because their kid hates pizza-burger day? Kids who want something to be psyched about until 11:25? Retired lunch ladies up early with their Dorals and Folgers keeping up on the game?

The verdict is that she will pull through and I will head home and then, blessedly, the old country home, Los Angeles, hang with the homos and the idle rich, bake a pie of love for some lovebirds, give a cake and feel the immortal tingle that only driving swiftly abreast a coastline brings.

Posted by Jessica at March 21, 2008 04:32 PM | TrackBack