yesterday i walked sister to…

by dishpantheism

yesterday i walked sister to the train station. it was raining. we didn't have umbrellas. needless to say i was a bit soggy by the time i retraced my steps through town. i hadn't thought to put a brush or comb in my bag and my hair quickly resembled some sort of wasp's construction. a vaguely blonde affair plastered together in a most unbecoming fashion and no way to rectify it.

(wow. as i'm typing this somebody is having a huge row in the street. dropping f-bombs left and right and screaming hoarsely. hmm.)
on the way to the station we stopped and hurriedly consumed some thai food. the waitresses were charming and funny and generally wonderful to be around. i love that place. it's not enough that they make the most delicious garlic pepper tofu. no. they also have to be so damn lovely. well.
i don't quite know how to describe yesterday's rain. at first sister and i both were displeased with it. it felt muggy and midwestern and gross. but then the temperature gradually dropped. i was suddenly very happy to have been wearing my pea coat but unhappy that i'd forgotten a lightweight scarf. rain dripped down my neck while i walked. i hadn't brought my nice headphones. i'd only brought the little standard ipod phones which kind of suck. i suppose they're handy for walking though. they don't jostle. they stay put. anyway. i discovered as i walked back from the station that deerhoof (my current musical crush) is not good walking music. not for me leastways. i am spectacularly clumsy to begin with. couple my clumsiness with slick streets and an erratic beat and it's a recipe for disaster. i had some close calls. but i made it to black horse/uptown okay and nestled next to the outdoor fireplace. unfortunately a creepy man came and nestled near me. and stared. creepily. for over an hour. i made the mistake of acknowledging him earlier when i'd passed through the alley/parking lot from one side of the block to the other. he stepped out of a stairwell and asked what i was carrying. typically when strange men step in my path aggressively in alleys or other out-of-the-way places i prepare to kick them in the nuts. but i was in a really really good mood. so i slowed and pulled one earbud from my ear and said oh they're orange blossoms. he leaned over and said can i smell them? i let him. but then i swiftly walked around him and toward the cafe door. he followed. i could hear him saying by way of explanation i just have to use the restroom. i bought an americano and planted myself outside. i figured the guy had left. returned to his stairwells where he could pop out and harass the next person carrying a bundle of orange blossoms. but no. he was lurking behind a pillar. and then he set up camp next to me. i endured his creepy stare for an hour and a half before i packed it in and headed for a bookstore to escape the weather. and so you see my feelings about yesterday's rain are rather mixed. on the upside a nice woman working in the bookstore told me about growing up in jewish west hollywood in the 50s. her priceless line: i can just see all of my grandmother's friends playing cards. they always had giant heaving breasts…. it was my bundle of orange blossom* that sparked her nostalgia. she had asked to smell them. she said all of west hollywood used to smell like citrus flowers. luverly.
i noticed that when one walks from the train station toward the center of town that all of the street names imprinted in the old sidewalks appear upside down. i love reading things backwards. i may have to add reading things upside down to the list.
the sidewalk near grace church was so effing beautiful. the rain had made it darker than normal. there's a seam down its center which marks the divide between old and new bits of concrete. half is paved in an aggregate of multi-colored pebbles. the other half is typical concrete. on the plain concrete side a sycamore had dropped last year's round seed pods. they were dark and wet. their color perfectly mirrored the color of some of the aggregate pebbles from the other side. it was a weird and beautiful sort of symmetry.
the tall tall eves of buildings dripped rivulets of dirty water. when i tried to avoid them i ended up getting wetter. it reminded me of that line in ghost dog.
wellidy. sister will be in spain soon. lucky so-and-so. bon voyage little sister. be safe.
*note: when i picked the orange blossoms i pricked my thumb on one of the thorns. it drew blood!