|how dare you forget about the terracetronauts
||[Jul. 24th, 2005|04:30 pm]
|||||none. i'm WORKING.||]|
the road was coarse and jagged, brutalized by countless winter wonderlands. it was tuesday, and eliza was once more late for her book club. see her flounder about in the cheap carpet of her bucket seat: fingers frantically spinning the AM dial, searching for that miraculous shortcut free of traffic and skin cancer and mosquitos; cursing as she topples her convenience-sized bucket of ruby red squirt, which eagerly seeps into yesterday's newspaper, making a crime-scene out of the passenger seat; shouting at her disaffected son curled up in the rear about attendance and weekend projects and quit-this-horseplay-and-MAKE-something-of-yourself mantras, parenting that TV taught her while her parents were out drinking, parenting that young richard also TV-weaned knows to roll his eyes at, knows to reinstall his headphones, pump up the volume, and bob his head narcotically at the passing motorists. it's not her fault that richard is so distant, it's his, and as she misses her exit she reflects that as a mother widowed by the endlessly seductive world, balancing work, two kids, a cat and a moneysucking home, she was lucky to have any sort of self-enriching social life, late entrances and lazy progeny be damned. how could 30 years turn out so frenetic? so mundane and herky-jerky, all at once, like some horrid funhouse with a broken safety bar? she and richard mutter at each other over wendys and NPR, and as she pulls into the construction-riddled parking lot of dillsman elementary school, she implores him not to wander off just this one time, knowing full well that she might as well open up his door and point toward the vague shadows of the nearby woods. ah well... can't win them all. eliza collects her soda-stained materials and heads toward the cafeteria, eager for her weekly escape back into college, into youth, into literature; eager to feel that something is more important than this crapshoot town and its opiated masses. the heavy doors bang shut behind her as richard pockets his ipod and smiles.