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But wait, there's more.
There's just no polite way to say "Buy me things", is there?
Need a band name?
rant is where the heart is
entry for 2001-03-21 (09:24:00)
In which our plucky young hero listens to the heartbeat.
Someone came and dropped a dusting of snow on the ground overnight, just two days after it all melted. On one side of the street. Not my side.
(My building faces the west, so for most of the day our front lawn is in shadow. The other side of the street loses all its snow, I've found, as much as two weeks before our side does.)
So now I'm listening to the scrape of shovel against sidewalk, as the building's caretaker makes our sidewalks fit for walking again.
The sounds of life in this city reassure me. The caretaker scraping off the snow, the rain drumming against the roof during the wet springtime, cars and trains and airplanes moving people and things where they need to be. Even though it's not where I want to be, this city is alive, and I like that, a lot.
I think if I lived in the boonies again, I'd go mad from all the wrong noises.(Browse: previous or next. Notes: post or read.)
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