Product Placement

Is it the drinking and drugging? Oh, no, I did see I, Robot the other day. Whatever, I am fascinated by my fan. Nightly, this week, my most contemplative moments have been the few minutes that come before sleep. Lying in bed, watching my fan, listening to my fan. It's on level three right now. Why bother with levels? This thing has been on full blast since it came out of the box. What an existence, your head on a pedestal, rotating, too and fro, fighting an endless, pointless battle to keep cool.
I rode a bike tonight, on the west coast. You have never experienced a city until you have pedaled through its streets at 3am. After a six pack of kokanee from a tough hotel, a bottle of cachaca straight from brazil, and a joint with a friend that had just returned from Paris, I was ready for my first bike ride in ages. Must be at least three years, maybe four, but as I ripped through the train station, and jumped off the curb in front of the security guard, I remembered. So many times, epiphanies, coming to me while I push cranks in the summer night.
Once, when I was 13, too young to drive, and too old to be comforted by a TV.
I stuck small speakers into my army jacket pockets. I glided through industrial neighborhoods blasting The Battle of Evermore to the crickets.
Another time, weaving through the multi national flags at the local chevy dealership at 430 in the morning with my brother. Looking up I saw my mom and dad staring at me through the windshield of our family grocery store delivery van, and I felt completely free.
Then there was peter, with the horrific story of doing a jump on his BMX at the the local bowl. Flying uncontrollably through the air, he backed off his seat and landed on his rear brake, ripping his scrotum wide open. Apparently had it stitched up by a hot nurse.
Even more vivid though, was the memory of the last time I rode the bike that I drove home tonight. A different time, a different city, it was along a river, people were jogging, and I was photographing hydro boxes. Busy, riding around aimlessly, waiting, with the selfish thoughts of what I should be doing at this pivotal moment. Which was raising a pint to grandfathers, and exploring the last moments of the present.
So what of the present then? It's hot, my fan is trying to cool me, and I stare at it. Its dull sound a steady distraction that make the sirens seem slightly less audible. I am beginning to enjoy this sweltering heat, and its thickness. The body adjusts, and the slight film of salt that has formed over my skin, sharp to the taste, and only attractive in the most primal frame of mind, persists.