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2006-03-17 || 11:29 a.m. || continental drift || i spied an old college roommate from my office window. i was on the phone with my parents wishing them a happy wedding anniversary (number 33: they answer the phone together, my mum in the kitchen and my dad in his office. i hear my dad breathing as my ma does all the talking. apparently the box of chocolates i sent wasn't a hit. then send it back!) and i leaned back in my chair to look out the window, as is my habit, to check the weather. overcast and windy, a high chance of serious rainfall, and c.r. below grabbing a parking permit from the kiosk beside my building. he no longer has the prince valiant haircut but the adidas shoes are certainly san francisco circa 1997. he was the house dad. he swept the hall floors once a week. i found him doubled over on the bathroom floor once in the painful throes of the passage of a kidney stone. he played the moog in the house band. i cut his hair once in the kitchen and his hair was so fine that i picked up with gingerly fingertips. i combed it like combing the hair of a baby. he's the first person i ever saw snort the drugs. he was carrying a backpack. i know he has at least one kid now, is married. i wrote him a love letter and sealed it in a sandwich bag. i told him to call. i told him to look up at this window in the event i'm checking the weather. guestbook || notes || archives || profile || photos || d-land |