November 25
the great shark hunt
I'm flying in from flying. 9am feels like brutal backlash from the night before, which of course was just this morning. Coffee cup rolls up to reveal the same goose egg its been displaying for a decade. People say I've been going to this same party for 12 years and that is in no way depressing. But greasy eyes sitting in an airport contemplating families and businessmen aren't so sure. Scan the crowd. Slow left, 15 people, two of them toddler twins. Slow right, past 15, 12 more, looking at watches, checking tickets, brushing back hair from travel worn brows. I could disappear here. Or reappear. Chew through a concrete wall like a wild rhinocerous and emerge at the other end all covered in dust and chalk...and look good having done it. Instead I sit in half realized limbo, sipping creamy brown caffeine and listening to the left over buzzing in my head.
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