in the 7th grade, a bunch of valley catholic middle school students were invited to spend the night in the school’s cafeteria.  being one of them, i excitedly packed pajamas, a pillow, and my sleeping bag.  in the morning, i awoke with a few others around 7am.  while the others soundly slept, and with the permission of sister adele marie, i stood in the school office, turned on the PA system, and played this nirvana song as loud as my boombox would allow in order to wake everyone up.

“polar bear cafe” is an anime show featuring very realistically drawn animals who talk and live among humans.  at first it seems like a kids show, but it’s not.  yes, the animals are cute, but they also get drunk, make inappropriate comments, and generally distort reality.  it’s also kind of addictive.  my favorite is the ornery penguin, as well as mr. llama, who speaks with the kind of sensible voice you wouldn’t expect from a llama.

i love this blog.

i finished my cigarette and stubbed it out in the ashtray.  getting up to go inside, i swiveled on my feet and kicked the glass with my spinning heel.  i watched it slowly careen over the white-painted planks of the staircase, turning end over end.  and then it smashed against the concrete and broke into a surprisingly small number of large, white shards.  the sound was more violent than i imagined it would be, probably because the glass shattered on a narrow passageway between two buildings, where the violence of the sound was magnified artificially.  in the moments before impact, the glass seemed to hover, and despite my previous experience with falling glass objects, i believed for a second or two that nothing would happen to the glass, that it would remain whole and unbroken, and that upon impact the glass would laugh back at the laws of nature with a loud and resilient clink that would seem to shout “i am stronger than gravity!”  but instead the usual occurred and i silently grimaced and went indoors to grab a bag, into which i would place every visible shard that remained, because there are children that live downstairs and also because it’s just bad form to do nothing about a broken glass.

almost every day i went running, this wonderful, sweet dog would greet me.  her name was annie.  she sat untethered in the front lawn of an apartment building as i jogged through hancock park.  whenever i would see her, i would be so happy.  i’d stop, out of breath, and for a moment take a break next to her.  soon she came to expect me and as i came within view she would lie down in expectation of my scratching.

she was such a kind, gentle dog — truly rare.  then yesterday, i was surprised to find a shrine in her place, because annie had passed away.  on a nearby tree were pinned numerous cards, balloons, stuffed animals, candles.  i had no idea that the neighborhood loved her so much, but i’m not surprised.  i’ll miss her now every time i run by that tree.

Happy 42! Thanks for having lunch with me.