it gets kind of tiring after a while, waking up to a gray san francisco sky every morning. is it true what my friend virgil says, that this town lives underwater? it's certainly true that nothing ever happens here at night. everyone crawls into bed before midnight, they can't take risks or be close to their loved ones. they just disappear. and then the sun comes up again, lighting up that gray sky full of water like a dim flashlight in a pond.
imagine my surprise to wake at ten AM today to see the sun stroking the floor, like really streaming in with fully discernable rays of dust-filled light. just like the big fat rays you see piercing the atmosphere during those thick summer storms in the midwest. the sun rays, if you remember, punching through the clouds on the poster for the movie E.T. that's what i saw when i opened my eyes today, the curtains fighting and giving up.
i was having a very calming dream as i slept (unbeknownst to me) in the sun. i was with the guitarist john frusciante, and we were driving through malibu or somewhere southwards. we were in a big convertable car from the 70s, something with white tuck-and-roll leather and big chrome rear view mirrors on the doors. we were arguing in a friendly way about krautrock — i remember john hating that term — and which album most perfectly defines the genre. kraftwerk or can or neu or tangerine dream. that part didn't last long, because the next thing i know, we were parked at one of those sand-strewn beach parking lots and john was hopping out of the car to walk on the beach. i asked him where he was going and he answered me as if it was the most natural response ever, adding that look that you give somebody who's asked a stupid question. he said he was going to collect seashells.
i woke at that very instant to find the sun waving at me in the window. i reached down to my ankles and half expected to find sand. even now, i thought, i can see john walking away towards the pacific, his white shirt flapping back away from him. i can feel my hair caught between my sunglasses and my face. but this is the best part: when i pick up a seashell and hold it to my ear, i don't hear the sound of a car alarm or the truck outside lifting a dumpster into the garbage crusher over the back wheels. when i hold the shell to my ear, i hear the ocean.
Posted by snackfight at February 24, 2004 12:07 AM