25 February 2007

Long Time Gone. J. A. Jance.

I noticed, one day not long ago, a strange pattern of wear along the side seam of one of my sweaters, just above and below the waist. Only slowly, though, over the next few weeks, did it creep upon my awareness that my sweaters, these days, all were thus--and not my sweaters only, but any such shirts as were made of soft material, easily frayable.

Could it be, I wondered, the place where my backpack strap pulls the fabric against me, now that I walk every day to work? But surely I do not walk in so very lopsided a fashion, all motion on the one side and stillness on the other?

It was a great mystery to me.

For several months.

But one day I washed some things, and put some in the dryer but hung others up along the shower rail to dry. A little bit after that, sitting on the toilet looking at those matching frayed bits all lined up along there, I suddenly knew. It was that square scratchy tag inside my leather jacket, that was what ruined all my tops.

I pulled out the jacket, and pulled out the scissors, and snipped.


It was about this time that I read the J. A. Jance book. There's a detective in there, I forget his name. He seems to solve crimes using about the same process I use to work out wardrobe difficulties, at about the same speed. And his life seems to be about as interesting as that square scratchy tag that used to be on the inside of my leather jacket.

Furthermore, Jance's copy editor failed to notice that in some places she refers to the Department of Licensing as the Department of Motor Vehicles, and in other places to the Five Point as the Five Spot.


06 February 2007

Bathroom Sink Drain

Behold, the mass of whatever-it-is. It accretes, it agglomerates. Some parts, methinks, metabolize. Where it will end, what man can say? Not I.

03 February 2007


Before the light turned, three parties of people collected at the crosswalk. There was me, bearing pork, vegetables, and tofu from Safeway, a tall man of no obvious character (had I looked at him, I might have discerned more), and three or four people out for the evening.

"Oh good," said I to myself. "I'm much less likely to get run over, now there are so many of us." (It was Saturday, around 5:30 p.m., not far from downtown. This is a city, but just barely.)

"Basically, my brother is the same thing as me, but he has these things," one of the group said, as the light turned and we went across. But I waited at the corner for the next light to change, so I didn't get to hear what the things were.