The rain.
And she spoke, and I couldn't make it out. I responded automatically with yes's and no's. And the rain kept coming down.
The veiw of the world through the car window was grey and diffused. Droplets hung on the glass, clinging desperately to avoid crashing onto the asphalt, that final raindrop afterlife where they will become one with all the other raindrops. I lit up a cheap cigarillo. I made an another automatic response to another irrelevant question. The thick smoke mingled with today's grey and hung there, making curled semi-patterns in the damp air. Was someone talking to me?
"Yeah," he said. "whatever you'd like."
As I cracked the window the raindrops fought their way in. Heavy, with a desperate velocity. I stared into the fog while the drops made a sop of my face. I didn't care. I couldn't. I didn't even notice.
The wipers cut a line on the windsheild. The left blade cut it straight, and the right blade curved it. Back and forth it went. The line cut in the splattered rain could be bent, and it could be straightened, but no matter what the wipers did, no matter how effectively they cleared the glass, that line was always there. And for some reason, that bothered me.
And the rain.
The mist kicked up by the tires of the other vehicles added a new dimension to the grey. I stared at them, making a face.
"Are you listening to me?"
"Yeah." he said.
And the rain came down.
Indeed many things will come to pass...
:mittens:
Dirty old town...dirty old town.
MOAR
please
WITH
hail
Quote from: Richter on March 15, 2010, 02:58:39 AM
:mittens:
Dirty old town...dirty old town.
hey my gf has a poster with a poem on it that ends in these two lines, some pop culture reference I'm unfamiliar with?
Quote from: E.O.T. on March 15, 2010, 06:49:01 AM
MOAR
please
WITH
hail
YES :D
Quote from: E.O.T. on March 15, 2010, 06:49:01 AM
MOAR
please
WITH
hail
Is my content not fluffy enough as it is? :lulz:
Ah, what the hail....
Quote from: Triple Zero on March 15, 2010, 07:40:22 AM
Quote from: Richter on March 15, 2010, 02:58:39 AM
:mittens:
Dirty old town...dirty old town.
hey my gf has a poster with a poem on it that ends in these two lines, some pop culture reference I'm unfamiliar with?
I know it from an old folk song. Not sure if there are any more recent instances.
Who is the poem by?
I will ask. The poster is at her bedroom in her parent's place in Germany so I can't check right now.
Could of course just be that it's not a poem but the lyrics of that song.
It's got some gritty picture of a young guy, who's a factory worker or something, old setting, maybe the 30s. The text has a line "I kissed my girl near the factory wall" or something like that.
Quote from: Triple Zero on March 15, 2010, 03:47:38 PM
I will ask. The poster is at her bedroom in her parent's place in Germany so I can't check right now.
Could of course just be that it's not a poem but the lyrics of that song.
It's got some gritty picture of a young guy, who's a factory worker or something, old setting, maybe the 30s. The text has a line "I kissed my girl near the factory wall" or something like that.
TBH, the last line was more a mis-quote from the HBT from Illuminatus, so I'm not really sure if anyone else had used similar wording.
Aside, would it be better if I corrected the quote?
No not your writing, what Richter wrote "Dirty old town, dirty old town"
and yeah it's probably (part of the) lyrics of Dirty Old Town by Ewan MacColl:
http://www.mysongbook.de/msb/songs/d/dirtyold.html
Not exactly which part, but at least the first four lines.
Sorry bout the threadjack :)
Quote from: Triple Zero on March 15, 2010, 04:40:00 PM
No not your writing, what Richter wrote "Dirty old town, dirty old town"
and yeah it's probably (part of the) lyrics of Dirty Old Town by Ewan MacColl:
http://www.mysongbook.de/msb/songs/d/dirtyold.html
Not exactly which part, but at least the first four lines.
Sorry bout the threadjack :)
Oh, my bad. No worries.
I met my love by the gas works wall
Dreamed a dream by the old canal
I Kissed my girl by the factory wall
Dirty old town
Dirty old town
Clouds are drifting across the moon
Cats are prowling on their beat
Spring's a girl from the streets at night
Dirty old town
Dirty old town
I Heard a siren from the docks
Saw a train set the night on fire
I Smelled the spring on the smoky wind
Dirty old town
Dirty old town
I'm gonna make me a big sharp axe
Shining steel tempered in the fire
I'll chop you down like an old dead tree
Dirty old town
Dirty old town
I met my love by the gas works wall
Dreamed a dream by the old canal
I kissed my girl by the factory wall
Dirty old town
Dirty old town
Dirty old town
Dirty old town
I thought you were on an island
"This house will be an island, she said." - Covenant
Quote from: dimo on March 15, 2010, 04:51:25 PM
I thought you were on an island
"Rhode Island is neither a road, nor an island. DISCUSS! Pat Buchanan!"
It's funny, isn't it Dimo? All this torrential rain ought to wash away the filth and leave it sparkling new but it doesn't. It's a magnifier for the grime. If you look at that one rain drop that clings to your windshield you can see the world in its view, the distorted buildings and blurred features. It's more beautiful that way; it doesn't provide clarity enough to see the trash choked gutters and winter ravaged grasses and mud. And mud. Some places are impervious to efforts both human and natural toward improvement. If there was a rainbow in Warwick the hues would be as dingy as the paint in the half rate used car lot nearby. And the passers by would show just as little interest.
The rain feels like it's inside the car too; inside your head maybe. On a day less drowned by splashes and patters maybe that conversation would have the vibrancy of a mountain vista. Or maybe it's time for greener pastures rather than waiting out the weather. But it sounds like you've got a plan.
It was good work, Dimo.
I liked it, Dimo. It reminded me of fall in Chicago, and of the people that live there.
4 feet of that rain is now covering where I usually park while I'm at work. Nowhere else for it to go, it just backs up. Flows, eddies and pours. Off of highway, the embankement, the field, road and bridge. Motor oil, exhaust grime, goose shit, trash juice.
It swirls around my feet and in through my sandals. Soaks into my jeans under my duster, more rain spatters off the brim of my hat.
SATURATED. Filled to capacity. The land has drunk all it can, and will take no more of humanity's runnoff. It all looks better as a lake. Honest, reclaimed, the asphalt scab hidden under cold water, seeping through and eventually running on. I remember another storm, pushing cars out of another flooded road next to a cemetary. Soaking my clothes with corpse water to be a good scout. This isn't any worse.
Quote from: EoC on March 15, 2010, 06:42:45 PM
It's funny, isn't it Dimo? All this torrential rain ought to wash away the filth and leave it sparkling new but it doesn't. It's a magnifier for the grime. If you look at that one rain drop that clings to your windshield you can see the world in its view, the distorted buildings and blurred features. It's more beautiful that way; it doesn't provide clarity enough to see the trash choked gutters and winter ravaged grasses and mud. And mud. Some places are impervious to efforts both human and natural toward improvement. If there was a rainbow in Warwick the hues would be as dingy as the paint in the half rate used car lot nearby. And the passers by would show just as little interest.
The rain feels like it's inside the car too; inside your head maybe. On a day less drowned by splashes and patters maybe that conversation would have the vibrancy of a mountain vista. Or maybe it's time for greener pastures rather than waiting out the weather. But it sounds like you've got a plan.
It was good work, Dimo.
Thanks Eoc. That one time I met you at KC's I caught the vibe that you are a harsh critic, so I'll run with the compliment. To adress the bolded section, man are you right on. When the "inspiring" moment came to write this, the grey had crawled right in. Between the weather and the recent "content diversion" going on in the boards, my natural safeguards against aggressive grey were waaaay down.
Quote from: Doktor Howl on March 15, 2010, 06:46:24 PM
I liked it, Dimo. It reminded me of fall in Chicago, and of the people that live there.
Thanks. Glad people were able to take this in in some way, considering it was mostly brain spooge. I dunno. This "content diversion" going on was actually really starting to bother me, so this was a kind of attempt at "whining," but with a focus on making it actual content. Best of both worlds, mebbe? I dunno.
Anyhow, does that wiper line on the windsheild bother anyone else, or is it just me?
Quote from: dimo on March 15, 2010, 07:55:42 PM
Anyhow, does that wiper line on the windsheild bother anyone else, or is it just me?
It annoys the hell out of me.
Quote from: Doktor Howl on March 15, 2010, 07:57:33 PM
Quote from: dimo on March 15, 2010, 07:55:42 PM
Anyhow, does that wiper line on the windsheild bother anyone else, or is it just me?
It annoys the hell out of me.
*whew* I gues I'm
not crazy...
Quote from: dimo on March 15, 2010, 07:58:53 PM
Quote from: Doktor Howl on March 15, 2010, 07:57:33 PM
Quote from: dimo on March 15, 2010, 07:55:42 PM
Anyhow, does that wiper line on the windsheild bother anyone else, or is it just me?
It annoys the hell out of me.
*whew* I gues I'm not crazy...
You forget that I am constantly fucked up on pills, and that I have minor brain damage.
So yeah, you're probably OCD like a motherfucker, by any conventional standard.
Quote from: Doktor Howl on March 15, 2010, 08:00:06 PM
Quote from: dimo on March 15, 2010, 07:58:53 PM
Quote from: Doktor Howl on March 15, 2010, 07:57:33 PM
Quote from: dimo on March 15, 2010, 07:55:42 PM
Anyhow, does that wiper line on the windsheild bother anyone else, or is it just me?
It annoys the hell out of me.
*whew* I gues I'm not crazy...
You forget that I am constantly fucked up on pills, and that I have minor brain damage.
So yeah, you're probably OCD like a motherfucker, by any conventional standard.
This is reassuring...
(edit for quote-fail. I keep doing that recently)
Quote from: Richter on March 15, 2010, 07:16:54 PM
4 feet of that rain is now covering where I usually park while I'm at work. Nowhere else for it to go, it just backs up. Flows, eddies and pours. Off of highway, the embankement, the field, road and bridge. Motor oil, exhaust grime, goose shit, trash juice.
It swirls around my feet and in through my sandals. Soaks into my jeans under my duster, more rain spatters off the brim of my hat.
SATURATED. Filled to capacity. The land has drunk all it can, and will take no more of humanity's runnoff. It all looks better as a lake. Honest, reclaimed, the asphalt scab hidden under cold water, seeping through and eventually running on. I remember another storm, pushing cars out of another flooded road next to a cemetary. Soaking my clothes with corpse water to be a good scout. This isn't any worse.
Yeah. Most of the roads out of my neighborhood are blocked right now. Mebbe part II if it keeps up.
Quote from: dimo on March 15, 2010, 07:55:42 PM
Thanks Eoc. That one time I met you at KC's I caught the vibe that you are a harsh critic, so I'll run with the compliment. To adress the bolded section, man are you right on. When the "inspiring" moment came to write this, the grey had crawled right in. Between the weather and the recent "content diversion" going on in the boards, my natural safeguards against aggressive grey were waaaay down.
It's okay Dimo, you can say prick. :)
Seriously though, I've been told similar things before about my demeanor. I don't intend for it and I couldn't tell you why that happens, but it's not uncommon to hear.
Quote from: Doktor Howl on March 15, 2010, 08:00:06 PM
Quote from: dimo on March 15, 2010, 07:58:53 PM
Quote from: Doktor Howl on March 15, 2010, 07:57:33 PM
Quote from: dimo on March 15, 2010, 07:55:42 PM
Anyhow, does that wiper line on the windsheild bother anyone else, or is it just me?
It annoys the hell out of me.
*whew* I gues I'm not crazy...
You forget that I am constantly fucked up on pills, and that I have minor brain damage.
So yeah, you're probably OCD like a motherfucker, by any conventional standard.
Pretty much what Dok said. I don't know why you would use this place as any standard measure of sanity.
Quote from: EoC on March 15, 2010, 08:51:40 PM
Pretty much what Dok said. I don't know why you would use this place as any standard measure of sanity.
*looks at the rest of the world*
Quote from: Doktor Howl on March 15, 2010, 08:54:19 PM
Quote from: EoC on March 15, 2010, 08:51:40 PM
Pretty much what Dok said. I don't know why you would use this place as any standard measure of sanity.
*looks at the rest of the world*
Point well taken. :lulz:
I've been rained on in so many different places. (not an :lmnuendo:, but I guess it could be)
Southern West Coast rain is never as dramatic as it advertises. It's here, then gone, and mostly you just get blather about the weather and maybe some all-day gray clouding with a bit of wind. It's where weather comes to die, really.
Northern West Coast rain is like a brisk shower, cleaning you out and leaving you shivering but wide awake. It stings you and breathes a new outlook to everything, even though it comes more often than an 18 year old on a Saturday night.
East Coast rain comes down like it's quenching someone's thirst and they can't get enough, but it doesn't wash anything away--the soot-stained streets and buildings are still standing, smoking gently when the sun peeks through and the steam rises from the tarmac.
Southern rain is a greeny goodness that brings a smell with it that never gets washed away, nor does it ever change. Southern rain is the same rain they've had since the natives danced to bring it on, calling out to the skies to make the grasses green again. Southern rain starts off slow and lugubrious, and then it reaches a slanting pitch into buckets, jars and troughs. Marshy bits are renewed, and there's a sort of lazy energy that builds as a crack of thunder and the ochre of lightning are felt all around.
Goddamn I love this country.
(I could go into the rains of Europe, but I'll stop here, I sorta riffed off of Dimo, here, and I loved the OP, so kudos, and sorry if this is inappropriate, in its way)
Quote from: Jenne on March 15, 2010, 09:28:04 PM
I've been rained on in so many different places. (not an :lmnuendo:, but I guess it could be)
Southern West Coast rain is never as dramatic as it advertises. It's here, then gone, and mostly you just get blather about the weather and maybe some all-day gray clouding with a bit of wind. It's where weather comes to die, really.
Northern West Coast rain is like a brisk shower, cleaning you out and leaving you shivering but wide awake. It stings you and breathes a new outlook to everything, even though it comes more often than an 18 year old on a Saturday night.
East Coast rain comes down like it's quenching someone's thirst and they can't get enough, but it doesn't wash anything away--the soot-stained streets and buildings are still standing, smoking gently when the sun peeks through and the steam rises from the tarmac.
Southern rain is a greeny goodness that brings a smell with it that never gets washed away, nor does it ever change. Southern rain is the same rain they've had since the natives danced to bring it on, calling out to the skies to make the grasses green again. Southern rain starts off slow and lugubrious, and then it reaches a slanting pitch into buckets, jars and troughs. Marshy bits are renewed, and there's a sort of lazy energy that builds as a crack of thunder and the ochre of lightning are felt all around.
Goddamn I love this country.
(I could go into the rains of Europe, but I'll stop here, I sorta riffed off of Dimo, here, and I loved the OP, so kudos, and sorry if this is inappropriate, in its way)
I wish it would rain fire. On Boston, specifically.
Quote from: dimo on March 15, 2010, 09:29:15 PM
I wish it would rain fire. On Boston, specifically.
That's discouraging. I've been thinking of moving East, to get away from the Yahoos. :(
I liked Boston, even when it rained on us that afternoon in July oh-so-long-ago (ok, 6 years maybe).
Quote from: Doktor Howl on March 15, 2010, 09:30:31 PM
Quote from: dimo on March 15, 2010, 09:29:15 PM
I wish it would rain fire. On Boston, specifically.
That's discouraging. I've been thinking of moving East, to get away from the Yahoos. :(
Ah, just expressing the dislike of Boston that I developed while I was in lighting/staging/production. NOT an easy place to drive a 28 ft. box-truck through. And when you associate a certain place with work, well, you just start to want to be there less...
Quote from: dimo on March 15, 2010, 09:36:53 PM
Quote from: Doktor Howl on March 15, 2010, 09:30:31 PM
Quote from: dimo on March 15, 2010, 09:29:15 PM
I wish it would rain fire. On Boston, specifically.
That's discouraging. I've been thinking of moving East, to get away from the Yahoos. :(
Ah, just expressing the dislike of Boston that I developed while I was in lighting/staging/production. NOT an easy place to drive a 28 ft. box-truck through. And when you associate a certain place with work, well, you just start to want to be there less...
Well, thank God for that. I was beginning to think there was nowhere to run.
Quote from: Doktor Howl on March 15, 2010, 09:39:27 PM
Quote from: dimo on March 15, 2010, 09:36:53 PM
Quote from: Doktor Howl on March 15, 2010, 09:30:31 PM
Quote from: dimo on March 15, 2010, 09:29:15 PM
I wish it would rain fire. On Boston, specifically.
That's discouraging. I've been thinking of moving East, to get away from the Yahoos. :(
Ah, just expressing the dislike of Boston that I developed while I was in lighting/staging/production. NOT an easy place to drive a 28 ft. box-truck through. And when you associate a certain place with work, well, you just start to want to be there less...
Well, thank God for that. I was beginning to think there was nowhere to run.
There isn't.
But it's not
where you run, it's who you run
with, and what kind of rusty weapons/garden tools you're brandishing while you do so. Screaming all the way, of course.
Quote from: dimo on March 15, 2010, 09:46:17 PM
Quote from: Doktor Howl on March 15, 2010, 09:39:27 PM
Quote from: dimo on March 15, 2010, 09:36:53 PM
Quote from: Doktor Howl on March 15, 2010, 09:30:31 PM
Quote from: dimo on March 15, 2010, 09:29:15 PM
I wish it would rain fire. On Boston, specifically.
That's discouraging. I've been thinking of moving East, to get away from the Yahoos. :(
Ah, just expressing the dislike of Boston that I developed while I was in lighting/staging/production. NOT an easy place to drive a 28 ft. box-truck through. And when you associate a certain place with work, well, you just start to want to be there less...
Well, thank God for that. I was beginning to think there was nowhere to run.
There isn't.
But it's not where you run, it's who you run with, and what kind of rusty weapons/garden tools you're brandishing while you do so. Screaming all the way, of course.
Well, yeah, sacking the joint WAS on my list, as soon as I link up with Richter.
I HAS A FIRE AXE.
Quote from: Doktor Howl on March 15, 2010, 09:48:09 PM
Quote from: dimo on March 15, 2010, 09:46:17 PM
Quote from: Doktor Howl on March 15, 2010, 09:39:27 PM
Quote from: dimo on March 15, 2010, 09:36:53 PM
Quote from: Doktor Howl on March 15, 2010, 09:30:31 PM
Quote from: dimo on March 15, 2010, 09:29:15 PM
I wish it would rain fire. On Boston, specifically.
That's discouraging. I've been thinking of moving East, to get away from the Yahoos. :(
Ah, just expressing the dislike of Boston that I developed while I was in lighting/staging/production. NOT an easy place to drive a 28 ft. box-truck through. And when you associate a certain place with work, well, you just start to want to be there less...
Well, thank God for that. I was beginning to think there was nowhere to run.
There isn't.
But it's not where you run, it's who you run with, and what kind of rusty weapons/garden tools you're brandishing while you do so. Screaming all the way, of course.
Well, yeah, sacking the joint WAS on my list, as soon as I link up with Richter.
I HAS A FIRE AXE.
Dimo comes too. He may not be the best, but you can always eat him if winter gets to be too harsh. Dimo Donner. Has a ring.
Quote from: dimo on March 15, 2010, 09:50:53 PM
Quote from: Doktor Howl on March 15, 2010, 09:48:09 PM
Quote from: dimo on March 15, 2010, 09:46:17 PM
Quote from: Doktor Howl on March 15, 2010, 09:39:27 PM
Quote from: dimo on March 15, 2010, 09:36:53 PM
Quote from: Doktor Howl on March 15, 2010, 09:30:31 PM
Quote from: dimo on March 15, 2010, 09:29:15 PM
I wish it would rain fire. On Boston, specifically.
That's discouraging. I've been thinking of moving East, to get away from the Yahoos. :(
Ah, just expressing the dislike of Boston that I developed while I was in lighting/staging/production. NOT an easy place to drive a 28 ft. box-truck through. And when you associate a certain place with work, well, you just start to want to be there less...
Well, thank God for that. I was beginning to think there was nowhere to run.
There isn't.
But it's not where you run, it's who you run with, and what kind of rusty weapons/garden tools you're brandishing while you do so. Screaming all the way, of course.
Well, yeah, sacking the joint WAS on my list, as soon as I link up with Richter.
I HAS A FIRE AXE.
Dimo comes too. He may not be the best, but you can always eat him if winter gets to be too harsh. Dimo Donner. Has a ring.
:lulz:
DIMO: BRINGING A KEG TO THE DONNER PARTY.
:lulz:
I shouldn't have volunteered for dinner. I need to fatten up first. Any suggestions on what I should gorge myself on to make dinner tastier?
Quote from: Triple Zero on March 15, 2010, 04:40:00 PM
No not your writing, what Richter wrote "Dirty old town, dirty old town"
and yeah it's probably (part of the) lyrics of Dirty Old Town by Ewan MacColl:
http://www.mysongbook.de/msb/songs/d/dirtyold.html
Not exactly which part, but at least the first four lines.
Sorry bout the threadjack :)
I think The Pogues covered that as well.
Anyway, :mittens:
If it's any consolation, my latest SME was inspired by the OP.
Quote from: Rumckle on March 16, 2010, 03:58:46 AM
Quote from: Triple Zero on March 15, 2010, 04:40:00 PM
No not your writing, what Richter wrote "Dirty old town, dirty old town"
and yeah it's probably (part of the) lyrics of Dirty Old Town by Ewan MacColl:
http://www.mysongbook.de/msb/songs/d/dirtyold.html
Not exactly which part, but at least the first four lines.
Sorry bout the threadjack :)
I think The Pogues covered that as well.
Anyway, :mittens:
Yes they did.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kVUZuVZWHkk
Beware teeth of Shane McGowan.
Quote from: LMNO on March 16, 2010, 02:10:45 PM
If it's any consolation, my latest SME was inspired by the OP.
is nice
FUCK
all this jabber
MOAR O.P.
please
"Oh, look! The clouds are parting!"
"Mmm. In a minute." he said.
The sun came out today, or so I heard. It didn't really make that much of a difference. Not to me, anyhow. It can't reach me where I'm at. Unlike the rain. The drainage systems are topped off and the over-saturation of the groundwater allows the water to do what water does. It searches for any crack or crevice, any porous material, that will grant it entrance. It still rains in the basement, even if it no longer falls from the sky.
"Looks like the bridge is still out, though..."
No response. There's nothing there.
My skull. It must be porous, too. Maybe there are some microscopic cracks in it, or maybe it's just osmosis, but it's still raining in my head. And it's a downpour. A deluge. A flood. But just like there are no rainbows in Warwick, there are none in my mind, as well. No rainbows. No two by two. No doves to search for solid ground.
"Just... Just give me a minute." he said.
To whom? To her? To himself?
"Enlil, is that you?" he whispered. "You've come to finish the job?" he said.
"Did you say something?" she said, not really listening.
And it's true.
Pass, they will.