South Philadelphia is a place everyone should have to experience on a post-rain sunday at thirty seconds to noon. Coming up the orange steps from the subway all i could hear was a cacophony of bing-bongs as all of the churches on all of the corners rang out their different tell-tale noon-rings at once, and i twisted them round and round in my head pulling forward sets to duet in perfect harmony and listening in one ear to others sounding like dueling blacksmiths.
After the perpetual rain all day yesterday the humidity is gone and Philadelphia just feels clean. I’m sure we’ll manage to muss that up tomorrow, but right now i want to go lie in my tiny rowhome backyard and smell that unmistakably city-smell of rain evaporating out of concrete sidewalks and watch the odd little weed with tiny blue flowers try to prove itself a rosebush through the cracks in the cement. Creeping up past the tiny china-cracks into the very bottom of a blue sky.
There are worse Sundays spent worse ways than this.
Six of us from high school are clustered around my glowy lamp talking about which hallucinagenics would be really compatible with it if we did the right kinds of drugs. Not that this is going to be all about the webcam now or anything, but i just think it’s cool that we have a whole party clustered around my webcam… if only we were all naked. I’ll work on it… now back to drugs!
Dear sweet lord… already i’ve had some comments on my Italian features, the fact that i had my favourite X-Men toy sitting out in the rain, the blogger sticker on the side of my computer (which, at this rate, i’ll be peeling off soon), and my resemblance to the keebler elves while wearing a bandana. God forbid anyone would comment this much on my writing :p
For the record: i didn’t really upload the porn shots because i was messing with color and resolution and stuff. Also, my hair is not “big,” it’s just curly. I have no idea what sort of regular amounts of evil i’ll be wreaking with this webcam, but be assured it will definitely feature large hair and less tropical shirts.
I think it’s a good thing to have so many idols, because i don’t make them unreal. Garrison Starr is still very much a person to me, and not some sort of god. When i met Shirley Manson she talked to me about writing personal songs and i talked about going to college. But, i feel like having so many people i honestly admire as artists and as people somehow is helping me triangulate to who i want to be and why. One of the people who has just as much influence as any rock star he’s ever written about is Glenn McDonald, and Rabi just pointed out a rare look at him outside of the context of his page where he talks about criticism as an art and profession. Also, there’s apparently a MetaFilter thread somehow related to all of this, but i haven’t quite found my way over to MeFi yet today. But, anyway, it’s all worth a read, to be sure.