Thursday, November 06, 2003
sights and sounds of berkeley...a mrs dalloway concoction, i do not profess to be virginia woolf:
she walked along, the campanile was playing in the background, the chimes ringing to the beat of her footsteps, creating a rhythm that flowed both in and through her, left right left right ring ring ring...a siren blared some distance off, this is a public service announcement, this is just a test, i repeat, this is just a test...the sound jarred on her ears and drowned out the campanile. it paused...ring ring ring...then blared again. the two sounds were in total conflict with each other in their natures, but yet seem to play off each other. blare ring blare ring. she walked. past the rows of homeless people, begging, busking, spare some change lady, take that sour look off your face that's better, i left my heart in...into the bookstore, nice and warm. rows upon rows of books waiting to be read, the smell of crisp, new paper giving her a wakeup jolt. she browsed the aisle, her eyes fell longingly onto one book after the other. then she shut her mental eye and walked back out of the bookstore into two women in mid-sentence. if he had done it one more time i would have got out of there...the florist next door suddenly splashed a bucket of old water onto the road, cutting in front of her, splash! she walked on. she would be late, it was ten minutes past! two men sitting at the bus-stop, talking silently, holding a dollar bill in his hand to pay for the bus, maybe his last dollar, another man, sitting behind the bus-stop, almost hiding...what from? she walked. her hands were stuffed tight in her pocket to escape the cold, she walked past more bookstores and had to fight the urge to go in. she was late. a woman walked by her, mini skirt, bright colored tights, tawdry hair, she was late. tobacco smoke, she turned her face away, water splashed, cut in front of her, two women talking...but i resolved to give him one more chance. she was late, she walked, hands in her pockets. the light was green but she was still halfway to the crossing, she willed it to stay green, half-expecting the walk sign to start flashing and the red light to come on. she sped up to beat the changing of the light, but realized she didn't have to when she was half way across the road and the walk sign was still steadily holding on. there were no cars on the road, where was everyone she wondered, she was late, it was ten minutes past! a couple rolled by, each on a bike, talking loudly at each other like there was no one else around. hush, she wanted to tell them, you're disturbing the peace and quiet. except who was there to appreciate the peace and quiet? she was late. they didn't even notice her, concentrating on their pedaling and each other, she walked on. she was almost there, and dreaded the thought of going into the house as much as she wanted to get out of the cold. the walk had not been nice, but she had enjoyed it, and now it was going to end because she had arrived. but no matter, she was late, it was ten minutes past, so she walked.
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she walked along, the campanile was playing in the background, the chimes ringing to the beat of her footsteps, creating a rhythm that flowed both in and through her, left right left right ring ring ring...a siren blared some distance off, this is a public service announcement, this is just a test, i repeat, this is just a test...the sound jarred on her ears and drowned out the campanile. it paused...ring ring ring...then blared again. the two sounds were in total conflict with each other in their natures, but yet seem to play off each other. blare ring blare ring. she walked. past the rows of homeless people, begging, busking, spare some change lady, take that sour look off your face that's better, i left my heart in...into the bookstore, nice and warm. rows upon rows of books waiting to be read, the smell of crisp, new paper giving her a wakeup jolt. she browsed the aisle, her eyes fell longingly onto one book after the other. then she shut her mental eye and walked back out of the bookstore into two women in mid-sentence. if he had done it one more time i would have got out of there...the florist next door suddenly splashed a bucket of old water onto the road, cutting in front of her, splash! she walked on. she would be late, it was ten minutes past! two men sitting at the bus-stop, talking silently, holding a dollar bill in his hand to pay for the bus, maybe his last dollar, another man, sitting behind the bus-stop, almost hiding...what from? she walked. her hands were stuffed tight in her pocket to escape the cold, she walked past more bookstores and had to fight the urge to go in. she was late. a woman walked by her, mini skirt, bright colored tights, tawdry hair, she was late. tobacco smoke, she turned her face away, water splashed, cut in front of her, two women talking...but i resolved to give him one more chance. she was late, she walked, hands in her pockets. the light was green but she was still halfway to the crossing, she willed it to stay green, half-expecting the walk sign to start flashing and the red light to come on. she sped up to beat the changing of the light, but realized she didn't have to when she was half way across the road and the walk sign was still steadily holding on. there were no cars on the road, where was everyone she wondered, she was late, it was ten minutes past! a couple rolled by, each on a bike, talking loudly at each other like there was no one else around. hush, she wanted to tell them, you're disturbing the peace and quiet. except who was there to appreciate the peace and quiet? she was late. they didn't even notice her, concentrating on their pedaling and each other, she walked on. she was almost there, and dreaded the thought of going into the house as much as she wanted to get out of the cold. the walk had not been nice, but she had enjoyed it, and now it was going to end because she had arrived. but no matter, she was late, it was ten minutes past, so she walked.
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