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Ka-boom!
Oh - my - God. It's raining. Raining in San Diego. Thunder. Lightning. Little rivers of water spidering across the ground. This never happens here. At least not like this. A sprinkle, a dash of water dusted on for taste, yes. Real, live thunderstorms with arcwelding bolts jumping across the sky and seizmic disturbances shaking building foundations, no. Except now. Wow.
Work has ceased to function. People are running towards the banks of windows at the cubicle sea's extremities, only to find themselves paralyzed, dumbstruck in awe at the hypnotic Zen spectacle going on oustide.
'Will the traffic on the 15 be terrible?' people wonder aloud. Will there be accidents? Flooding? 'I hope puffy isn't outside right now.'
Poor kitty.
Heh. These people react to rain the same way Texans react to snow: giddy apprehension, a sense of the world temporarily jarred into a strange parallel universe with meaning, action, and personalities shifted slightly off-center from nominal and a whole catalog of bizarre, dreamlike fantasies suddenly made possible.
Before the rain, it was just another day. But now, in this moment, one gets the sense that something special is about to follow, something that might render the day uniquely distinct from the blur of time.
But really, it's just rain. So, back to the practical issue at hand:
I suddenly want to pull on my brown cordouroy sportscoat, find a Landmark cinema, get a hot cup of tea at the counter, and go see art films. Anyone wanna come with?
I knew you would.
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