Tuesday, November 29, 2005
If my soul was a shape it would be square.
The outgoing sun shinned its golden face today as lucid as ever, pumping Denver’s high to a magical 40 degrees. As I slipped into the comfort of my school’s admissioned parking lot I let out a laborer’s sigh of relief. Really it was a transition sigh from my one square life in the cube- to my next square life as a student. At least I’m a fun square at school. After parking, I walked as briskly as the weather and forked over my one hundred and seventy five quarters to the clunking parking machine which was freshly doctored together with medical tape. Shortly after anyone deposits their cash into the thing the tape repaired machine is for some reason programmed to make a forceful demand of, “PLEASE DEPOSTIT YOUR CASH NOW!!!. It comes out loud and flat in a diluted Midwest accent. One of my obnoxious pleasures (from a list of a million) is to walk away from the machine after I pay and just before it delivers its command and watch as the next unsuspecting patron gets patronized from some ghetto rigged machine with that damn half Denver half Waukesha accent. Told you I’m a fun square…I know how to get down.
The outgoing sun shinned its golden face today as lucid as ever, pumping Denver’s high to a magical 40 degrees. As I slipped into the comfort of my school’s admissioned parking lot I let out a laborer’s sigh of relief. Really it was a transition sigh from my one square life in the cube- to my next square life as a student. At least I’m a fun square at school. After parking, I walked as briskly as the weather and forked over my one hundred and seventy five quarters to the clunking parking machine which was freshly doctored together with medical tape. Shortly after anyone deposits their cash into the thing the tape repaired machine is for some reason programmed to make a forceful demand of, “PLEASE DEPOSTIT YOUR CASH NOW!!!. It comes out loud and flat in a diluted Midwest accent. One of my obnoxious pleasures (from a list of a million) is to walk away from the machine after I pay and just before it delivers its command and watch as the next unsuspecting patron gets patronized from some ghetto rigged machine with that damn half Denver half Waukesha accent. Told you I’m a fun square…I know how to get down.
# posted by Nick D @ 6:53 PM 
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Somewhere, I have a journal entry about our square lives. Square city plans, square buildings, square workspaces, square machines, square vehicles, square pages from which we see into other worlds.
From one square to another,
S
From one square to another,
S
Heh, and dare I add ... square photos and square boxes with moving pictures, which deliver a visual record of our world.
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