The other night I lay (laid?) down to go to sleep and suddenly my brain began singing "HappyHappyHappyHappyHappy Anniversary." Over and over. I clenched and unclenched my teeth to the rhythm until I finally fell asleep.
(If you're interested in how my summer is going, listen to Joe Walsh's "In the City.")
I applied for a job and a few days later while I was doing the dishes I heard the echo of laughter coming from the direction of the Loop (south). That's when I knew I didn't get the job.
Somebody, please throw an opportunity at me. I'll go teach in China, I'll build houses in Darfur, I'll canoe the Pacific. Whatever.
They're filming Batman near where I work and I just know as I walked by the trailers the other morning the entire cast and crew was impressed with my Ann Taylor culottes and retro blouse paired with high boots in the middle of the goddamn summer and they thought to themselves, now why didn't we think of that? She's definitely cheaper (literally and figuratively) than Maggie Gyllenhaal and she's absolutely more desperate. Then they thought, how many more adverbs can we throw in this poorly written thought-sentence?
There's something drenched about the summer. The humidity makes everything moist and squeezed, but it's not only that. When it's 8:30 and the sun is just setting it feels like a million possibilities going down with it. I never want anything to end.