he's lost he says.
ny blues he calls them.
but why?

someone said last night: that's the funniest jesus knock knock joke i've seen in a long time.
i had no idea they were so rampant
like saturn commercials
or wireless services.

the most artificially tanned and blonded (blonded? it's the action of turning blonde- i like it better than plain blonde) girl i've ever seen is wearing a shirt that says:
50% naughty
50% nice
and still more novel: the face that it's red/green/white

have you ever noticed how belle and sebastian goes with everything?
sort of like black
or a navy blazer
there are a few exceptions. there always are.

another delay.
it's like fucking planes trains and automobiles here.
i'm stuck at reagan now.
maybe leaving in an hour?
maybe renting a car to drive the last 290374 hour leg.


..

how and why and when and where to go
how and why and when and where to follow

i've seen a lot of lame looking couples today.
he reads the sports section while cramming down french fries and a diet coke.
she reads the metro section, newsprint reflecting off the silver monogrammed ring.
flat smiles to each other.
pearl earrings
button down shirt coupled with a heteroquestionable haircut.

when people suddenly start moving (like a herd of antelope) at once in the airport it makes me anxious.
like i should be going where they're going.
not because i want to roll with these people, but because i'm nervous that i'm missing something.
how and why and when and where to follow.

now he shares his french fries with her.
they scream "MISSIONARY!"
is this the inevitable turn relationships take?
"we must fuck twice a week like clockwork. he turns off cnn. and then the lights. and then rolls over and i know it's time for our 'lovemaking' to begin."
god, i hope this never happens to me.

now he sits alone, engrossed in his paper.
she is probably masturbating in the bathroom.

she is androgynous (pearls AND hiking boots) and drives a jeep cherokee. he, sporting the relationship vagina, rocks out in a saab.
they don't drink 40s or expensive champagne.
the drink microbrews and yellowtail.
they are stable and practical with a solid group of friends that they mesh very well with.
there is something about them that i find both disgusting and refreshing.
i count on these people.


----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

i read today that 95% of true love is finding the right person.
what's the other 5%?

i always feel sad when people are dining alone.
it never occurred to me that some people enjoy the solitude.
just as i like to be left alone to relax and think and decompress at my house, these people do the same, only in a public venue.
i wonder if anyone thinks i'm lonely. sitting at a table in the airport.
typing.
coffee in hand.
observing.

maybe not accurately. but observing,
with my own skewed perspective.

i want to get up and check my flight status, but i hate to lose this prime piece of real estate that i have staked out.

there is a certain camaraderie among these airport workers.

could fred sanford please not be working my gate? i don't know what this guy's condition is (mild autism?) but he is having all kinds of issues in communicating with the very frustrated passengers of this (now 5 hour) delayed flight.

fuck ass!

i can't believe the drama of this shit. i have now spent the last 18 hours trying to travel home. i should have been there 13 hours ago. snuggy bunny with my beautiful famille.


..

i just saw a guy with a huge square purple bruise on his forehead. i think an anvil fell on his face. like wylie coyote. only wylie coyote never had bruises. he did see stars and squiggly lines though.

there is a lady with a shelf of bangs. i wish she'd sit next to me so i could rest my coffee on them. they will never ever fall in her face, but still have that freshly pushed back look. i venture to guess that there are at least 2 cans of aquanet involved.

i have now relegated myself to listening to chronic 2001. the mutherfuckin d-r-e (dr.dre motherfucka), and the motherfuckin d-o double g. compton, long beach, englewood.

fuck i'm bored.

it would be easy to dress for work if you had to wear a bright yellow suit every day.
or i guess any type of uniform for that matter.
but it seemed much more exciting to talk about the bright yellow standardized raingear looking getups that the runway guys rock.

now i'm listening to goodie mobb. soulfood. this fucking autocorrector sucks. i just bad to type the second b in goodie mobb 932847024 times and then i just did it again. sweet.

fuck this shit- next year i'm having xmas in nyc by myself.