I'm currently a little
woozy from inhaling the semi-
toxic fumes emanating from the cheap charcoal
barbecue outside my window one story down. This has become
habit for a couple of residents who live in the apartments
kitty-cornered to mine, and nearly every night between ten-thirty and eleven I am drawn to my window by the smell of
lighter fluid and the flickering patterns of two foot high
flames sprayed across the brick of the building. Each night I grow a little light-headed as I suck down lungful after lungful of
carbon monoxide and home-style
mesquite flavor. I know they don’t realize that the air-currents around the building direct the smoke right into my
window, and would probably move it if they knew, but every time it happens I'm too tired to get up and do anything about it. Who the fuck barbecues an hour before midnight, anyway?
Nothing much to report as far as the happenings of my day. Most of the morning and afternoon was gobbled up by paperwork and running around to various piddly meetings that really serve no purpose. After a dinner of horrid salad, I did a bit more paperwork before heading to the pool for a swim. This has quickly become a very enjoyable activity as I get wound a little tighter each time something gets added to the heap of things I need to do. As I was swimming tonight I found myself going a bit faster with each lap, just a bit more with each flip-turn until I was sprinting. I was a competitive swimmer for ten years, and stopped four years ago to concentrate on my studies. As I moved through the water I could feel it coming back to me: the burning in the arms and lungs, the rush of adrenaline, the feel of water leaking into my sinuses. I gradually realized that I was enjoying this. Needless to say I'm horribly out of shape, and was panting when I was finished. Still, it was fun.
So now I'm sitting here, breathing in microscopic bits of charcoal and cow and sweet Texas-style sauce. From my speakers is softly blasting a mix cd Beautiful Girl made me which hasn’t left my stereo since I received it a couple days ago. Among the great songs on this little gem are Wall of Voodoo's Mexican Radio and Bracket's great cover of Tommy Toutone's Jenny, which urges me to endlessly repeat 867-5309 in my sleep each night. Along with the cd I also received a tin of Penguins (glorious little things), a chocolate key lime, and some pictures from our road trip together.
The barbecue people are catcalling and screaming for no particular reason. I'm feeling a little ill even though the air has cleared a bit. A half an hour ago I fell into a snack food cascade reaction and ate handful after handful of wasabi peas, relishing the characteristic burn. These damn things have risen to my very short list of preferred snack foods. They do a number on my stomach, though.
I think it's starting to rain. My head is clearing.