Friday, December 19, 2008
18 months later. "Meet my husband." "This is my child." "Honey, you don't have to dress like that anymore." "I didn't even recognize you." "Why are you awake so early?" "You haven't heard his latest?" Garbage disposals, carpet, a bed, smiling strangers, awkward encounters, latvanglish, dental hygiene, Obama, recession?, indie hipster world, Gidget the dog who eats crack, blogging, Harry Potter. It's as though I feel asleep and woke up a year and a half later, tired and a bit out of touch with the world. And I remember parts of my dream, missing Marite and Inese, the 21 bus, first lessons, latviesu voloda, Ace of Bass in every store. But here's the beat going on, and in the words of Aivars, corpse don't sweat.
Posted by Meg Walter at 2:17 PM