military_tech110%er auto_awesome8,904 favorite100%
school Clempsin
brush Hunting trash-eating cats, pining for Mike Fratello
accessibility_new Joined Jan 12, 2003
search Last Seen Nov 26, 2021, 10:04 PM
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My younger days were spent on the docks of Nantucket, where we would mope through summertime boredom and later reminisce to shine again in better days. Father would come home late from the clock factory stinking of George Dickel and ruing the day's mismanagement, and Mother would lunch with long island iced tea, which fueled her delusions of grandeur and inappropriate advances toward wandering men.

The dusk came late, and when the Crash blew the lights out, Father and 112 other factory workers banded together to raise the necessary funds to keep the clocks in motion and maintain the jobs they hated. He was wearing his company-issued gold watch when he died three years later.

My current days are spent alone in a room with two windows. I constantly stare at their angled sunlight and find myself hysterical with laughter when for one instant of one second each day, the noontime sun teeters in balanced equilibrium, directly overhead. And for that one instant, that one shallow breath of an instant, the daylight dance of the light angles -- disappears.