25.9.08

Motorized Watercraft Prohibited

When you live in a lakeside basement apartment with an ocean view in the country's fish and chip capital the dankness smells like salt and vinegar chips and the air lays on you like rain soaked London Fog rain coats or seventeen extra coats of paints.

Or pant suits.

I live in a lakeside basement apartment with an ocean view that feels like salt and vinegar chips and wears like warm mittens with holes in them so the cold air comes in and fills them and leaves your fingers numb and unable to manipulate the situation.

This situation.

But you know there are septuagenarians out there who still give shits and who you still give shits about and some of them run for president and some have already been and some are neither and their aims aren't as lofty all they want is a chocolate milk shake and a Grandpa Burger with just onions and onion rings and the milk shake will sit on the dash and melt into a heart shape brown stain on the floor mats.

Or Zapf-Dingbats.

Turnabout tournaments are based on some abstract notion of fair play and attention deficit politics and fiscal planks in colour-coded party platforms you don't pay any attention to because you stopped caring because it doesn't matter and isn't interesting and no amount of toupee troupes or magic moustaches or tousled Whigs will convince the populace otherwise.

Ends wise means well.

In less than three weeks a king will be made here and I can't bring myself to even complain half-heartedly about how little I care or how little this concerns me while in a month and more a king will be made there and we all cannot get enough because what we long for is drama, is heroes and villians and crazy hockey mom pit bull pigs in lipstick and tousled Whigs making shadow puppets on White House walls.

Where do the wall flowers register to vote?

For hope and hopscotch and Olds Grizzlys alumni old-timer games of old pros turned inside out by time, after time, we will rise up out of our chairs and stand as tall as years of slouching and time will permit and beat our thundersticks thunderously and laugh uproariously at unfunny jokes told by computers to commuters on command prompts.

I'll drink to that.

Bicycle-powered Watercraft Prohibited.

2 comments:

jillian said...

OMG I can't believe you didn't tag Elizabeth May.

Tricia said...

I wear pant suits.