recited as catechism
1. a large bag of dried mango from costco, the egg sandwiches deborah makes with pandesal, haribo gummy bears, cinnamon life cereal, sharp cheddar cheese, the last tabs of a pack of gum, burnt ends, the five layers of talenti chocolate cherry cheesecake gelato (recited as catechism: cheesecake gelato, chocolate shards, black cherry sauce, cheesecake gelato, pie crust crumbs) / the satisfaction of breaking the initial hierarchies of the elements into new planes of flavor
2. the second season of yellowjackets which we just watched the first three episodes of in a row during the been on vacation so sunday scaries but it's wednesday and which is if nothing else (logical? subtle?) such a tone poem for people who like 90s stuff (i like 90s stuff). there's a taste of true blood on the tongue, tonally, and of course melanie lynskey forever. listening to deborah sing along to a garbage song i don't know on the soundtrack. cornflake girl.
3. the water fountains in the park at the midpoint of my run are on and flowing cold. today in the car with deborah on the way to costco, i thought of the band ponies in the surf whose short but aesthetically complete album a demonstration i downloaded from some MP3 blog in my computer library in college the year i didn't have a computer because someone pushed in my window screen on a hot night and stole it and then months later a property guy for the housing complex we lived in found it on the roof above my room, it had probably been there all along like an edgar allen poe story. anyway the album is still great summer sunset music: soft twee nylon string acoustic tape hiss home demos, silly high harmonies, lounge accents, ivy league miniatures (vampire long weekend).
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