Your city lies in dust, my friend
Jul. 24th, 2005 02:36 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cyranoWhat a difference a day makes.
Screwed up my hand this morning--the person driving ahead of me did something stupid which required quick reaction, and I apparently slapped the steering wheel too hard because my hand is now sore and tender and resists flexing. Work was the usual cluster fuck with bonus explosions and fifty percent more shit hitting the fan. So I thought a trip to the beach would be nice. I could walk on the sand and watch the waves and maybe get a little more centered. Went down under the Cliff House, with dozens of other people, and about fifteen minutes later the Dragnet team arrived. All told there were maybe half a dozen patrol cars and three park ranger trucks and they had the bullhorns out announcing that the beach was closed and if we didn't leave we'd all be cited.
This was unusual. Despite the posted 'stay away after ten for god's sake' signs, pretty much the only time I'd been at this beach was after ten, and I'd never seen anybody who cared. But I didn't much care to be cited, so I left. The place was reminding me of an old girlfriend anyway. Driving up SkyLine, I discovered that I'd already been cited despite my co-operative nature.
And then, feeling surly and antisocial, I dragged Rachel all the way up to Palo Alto before I realized that I was exhausted and wasn't fit company for anybody even if I didn't need to go to bed and by the way do lots of writing for the game in about eight and a half hours.
So now I'm going to bed. I'm not centered, at all. My hand and back hurt. I'm already behind for tomorrow which hasn't even started. I'm full of disquiet and psychic static. And I have a $75 parking ticket.
Screwed up my hand this morning--the person driving ahead of me did something stupid which required quick reaction, and I apparently slapped the steering wheel too hard because my hand is now sore and tender and resists flexing. Work was the usual cluster fuck with bonus explosions and fifty percent more shit hitting the fan. So I thought a trip to the beach would be nice. I could walk on the sand and watch the waves and maybe get a little more centered. Went down under the Cliff House, with dozens of other people, and about fifteen minutes later the Dragnet team arrived. All told there were maybe half a dozen patrol cars and three park ranger trucks and they had the bullhorns out announcing that the beach was closed and if we didn't leave we'd all be cited.
This was unusual. Despite the posted 'stay away after ten for god's sake' signs, pretty much the only time I'd been at this beach was after ten, and I'd never seen anybody who cared. But I didn't much care to be cited, so I left. The place was reminding me of an old girlfriend anyway. Driving up SkyLine, I discovered that I'd already been cited despite my co-operative nature.
And then, feeling surly and antisocial, I dragged Rachel all the way up to Palo Alto before I realized that I was exhausted and wasn't fit company for anybody even if I didn't need to go to bed and by the way do lots of writing for the game in about eight and a half hours.
So now I'm going to bed. I'm not centered, at all. My hand and back hurt. I'm already behind for tomorrow which hasn't even started. I'm full of disquiet and psychic static. And I have a $75 parking ticket.
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no subject
Date: 2005-07-25 10:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-07-25 05:45 pm (UTC)