Tuesday, May 7

Suggestion / Bass Notes


WE WERE QUEUING up and I look here & there because, especially in heat, queuing is a boring sport. There was a gentleman with greasy hair that he combed incessantly so that the lines showed in his hair and he had sandals on and white socks pulled up to just under his knees. But in front of us was a young girl; she was from school; ‘Mrs. Buchanan, Sixth Grade 2013’ the t-shirt said; many children wearing the same shirt; I worked out how old; eleven-years. She was one of the most arresting girls I had ever seen. She stood in the queue and she didn’t say much but she sipped her drink through a straw and she looked around. She was so perfect that it upset me. Her face was perfect. She looked like a princess from a Mexican fairytale; one who might tell the hero to scram and rule the land herself. I could not stop staring at her. When we sat down to eat later on, I said – ‘Not to sound like a paedo’, but that girl in front of us in the queue today was lovely.’ My mother – ‘She was, wasn’t she! I said that to R—. She was stunning!’ I took a sip of my drink and stared suspiciously at the table next to us – ‘It saddens me that she’s going to get ruined by the world and by men. That’s a real shame.’

A THUNDERSTORM BROKE out. Each rocket of thunder shook the drink in your glass and the intestines in your body, so that one was struck simultaneously with fear and a ticklish excitement. We and some others – mostly pale-skinned arrivals – sat around the bar and looked at the pool; where the rain blurred it beyond reality into something strange and intangible. Lifeguards stopped anyone going anywhere. All you could do was sit down, drink, and look at the weather as it threw a tantrum; waiting it out.
The sky often put on a performance; a show somewhere between the apocalypse and heaven.
One night the lightning poked at the earth. Cars moved speedily along the interstate in black, hissing up the fallen rain, working their windscreen wipers. The lighting started to light up the smoke from a firework show. These fluorescent confusions in the distance appeared and captured backseat eyes. The rain fell; the drivers concentrated; the fleeting hotels – names very bright and red against the flickering darkness – obscured the view for a moment; then the thunder hit your four wheels.

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