now in retrospect

when i look back on my youngness, i will think of driving miles and miles to spend too much money on something as ubiquitous as coffee or gelato, something as scarce as good coffee or good gelato; lounging every day on grungy sunken couches next to hipsters wearing too many layers; running stale yellow lights; meeting strangers off the internet; drinking so much caffeine that in class i am something hopping and alive, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed;

in the morning, you only get bad e-mails because all your friends are asleep and all the worker ants are working. this morning i saw many straight-laced straight-faced men walking on wilshire in suits walking to their works. the art in psychobabble has changed. instead of glitter-glue cartoons, now objectively ugly paintings of some incan (A Peruvian in Edinbugh) and angels and islands. i am studying russian, listening to swedish rap, reminding myself of danish equivalents. there was an attractive boy driving on my right this morning. when i looked at him, he looked away.