the Ether Bunny (ninjalicious) wrote,
the Ether Bunny

  • Mood:
  • Music:

tell the leaves not to turn

I think I've peaked my embarrassment potential at the corner store today. For some reason I never have my wallet when I'm in this place. I continually fail to consider this fact while shopping, since it's the only place I ever don't have it in. They at least laughed with me.. and I dashed the exta loot back on the shelf before slinking away in my half-washed velveteen hoodie. In a few weeks I won't be between two corner stores.. I'll be between two bars. (Although with the keys worked out, my place has officially become our summer home, and his place is now the guest house, as it's only a couple blocks from the new place.)

Our new landlords are a little crazy for the neighborhood. They only rent properties in that one small area, and they have a (very brief, "NO WHERE NEAR COMPLETE") webpage dedicated to the local history. On their business page they have links to all kinds of community stuff, including some really bad area photography. It's kinda nifty and kinda curious. I wonder if they really love the area, or are just trying to specialize, or whatever.

When I was 18 I went to see John Wesley Harding in Hoboken, NJ with two girls I'd never met before. One of them was a dj on a college station; I used to call her show with requests because we had very similar taste in music. I don't even remember how we segued into friendly talk from "Can you play..". She introduced me to about 10,000 things I'd never heard of before all in that day, all coincidentally. Nothing so obscure.. just an avalanche of worldliness that my sheltered church-ass never knew. My family lived.. inside our home. The world was something other people lived in. When we were in the bar before the show, he came over to our table at her friend's request, and signed autographs for us. He signed my bootlegged tapes, and asked me where I got them. I embarrassingly mentioned my friend, and he wrote out an autograph for him too, thanking him for giving me the tapes. 1991.

  • Post a new comment


    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.