broken.syntax

On Saturday, seeing the advertised sign on our way back from lunch, Danielle and Kiffanie thought it would be a good idea for me to get my palm read, so down the street we went.

There was a lot that was amusing about the whole experience, from the yapping minature poodle that would not leave Danielle alone, to the fact that she watched Sleepless in Seattle the entire reading. She stayed very general, telling me I had worries and obstacles to over come, to persevere to complete the projects I start. Funnily enough the only time she was somewhat specific was when it came to my romantic relationships and future family. I will be the proud father of at least 4 children and 3 of them will be in a leadership position (though suspect I will be most proud of the non-leader for following in his fathers foot steps.) I will be married twice, "one [I] will lose and one [I] will gain." And somebody in the medical profession will be important to me. This leads me to think that i may need to get on having children, because if I have at least 4 I'm going to be busy for awhile. Also I don't know if she was maybe getting her signals crossed and picking up things from Tom Hanks or not, she was paying quite a bit of attention to the television.

The whole concept of a psychic is intriguing though, and of palm readers especially. Is there an aprenticeship that they have to go through, to learn how to sound vauge but personal at the same time (if so did this lady miss the bus to school that day?) There is a certain mystique that surrounds the whole business even though Dionne Warwick and her friends no longer lead you to spiritual sucess at 2:00am. How would I have reacted if this woman actually knew details of my past and was predicting specific events in my future. I am certain I would not have gone if I wasn't solid in my disbelief of palm reading. The is not much fun in finding out tomorrow today. As for now, I guess it's time to sit and wonder what portion of my children will come from the marriage I lose and what portion will come from the marriage I gain.

Posted by water at 07:44 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Monday evening the pile of dirty clothes in my closet had reached critical mass, behooving me to dutifully sort and sequester any remaining stray articles in the hamper, and make my way to the wonderfully shady laundromat across the street. Detergent, softener, and reading material in tow I set about the task of washing my accumulated filth away. Laundry can be a fairly pleasent chore: allowing time to read, enrapture oneself in a game boy, or contemplate the state of the world. I like to stare blankly out the window, which in turn reflects a perfect metaphor for the starkly white page that is my mind at the time. After approximately 30 minutes the washers have finished their last spin, winding down to a lazy stop; gears knocking creating a cacophany of sound reminiscent of me trying to make my way through a crowded room full of broken wind chimes. Perhaps not as harmonious but just as loud. Now comes the transfer across the wrapper and lint strewn room to the industrial dryers. Newly dried clothes are one of my favorite things. Clean, with a crisp smell, and warm in a way that makes me feel sleepy and similar to how I imagine a cat feels lying down on a cloudless late afternoon in a west facing window sill. After another period of silent staring, this time following the cracks in in the linoleum to their logical conclusion, and ending up lost. The time to retrieve my freshly clean wardrobe neared. I don't necessarily pay attention much to the other people occupying this nexus of cleaning, busy as I am in all important contemplation on all things all important. I do however take exception when, a person intercepts the veiw from me to the timer on the dryers I may be currently occupying. I will not comment on the family tree of said person, but if I were to put it into question, I would say I could perhaps be more right than wrong. Soon after entering my line of site, this man came upon the conclusion that I possessed entirely too many articles of clothing and decided he would be kind and relieve me of a few. While not excessively materialistic I have grown quite attached to what possessions I have, and do not like to be parted from them. I politely said to the gentleman, "Hey dude those are my pants." And after a breif exchange, where excuses were made and apologies accepted, my pants as well as all my other apparel was allowed to continue it's ride on the tilt-o-whirl of dessication known as the dryer. Suppressing the urge to wash the molested pants again, I folded my newly spring time scented clothing, collected my reading, softner and detergent, and headed home. This tale does have a moral though.

OMG DON'T STEAL MY LAUNDRY, ESPECIALLY WHEN I'M STANDING THERE WATCHING!!!

I hate our laundromat.

Posted by water at 12:18 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

I bought a different brand of deodorant, well same brand but different scent. This has resulted in two things: (1) I now smell like an Artic Force, and fully expect to find polar bears frolicking in my closet, or else i am going to demand my money back. (2) I constantly think somebody is behind me because I am not used to the new smell, and perhaps the refreshingly clean tundra scent will attract De La Soul, and they will take me into thier igloo and eat me.

This is why it takes me 10 minutes just to pick out deodorant.

Posted by water at 01:51 PM | Permalink

Shape without form, shade without colour / Paralysed force, gesture without motion

Posted by water at 02:11 PM | Permalink