I keep a digital voice recorder in my coat. Don't ask me why. And I couldn't think of any nice, funny, inoffensive things to say tonight, so I transcribed this, my stream-of-consciousness recorded on January 3rd, 2008 while parallel-parked on a residential Chicago street. There was snow on my windows:
Over loud background noise.
The ice melts. Dots on the windshield. Strange to hear my own voice. I don't like it. I'm scared of where it will take me. It's two in the morning here. I'm in a car. Maybe you can hear the heat. The heat is on. It's loud. The car's covered in snow. I'm not outside the car, scraping the snow off. This is my new year's ritual: I like to watch the ice melt.
I'm scared a little bit, being out here at two in the morning on January 3rd -- I was too drunk to do this on January 1st or January 2nd. And it's the first year I've done this as a new year's celebration. So there's that. You never quite know what you're gonna think when you're alone. Sometimes you think you're going crazy. But I don't think it's going crazy. I think... it's just when you don't give that inside voice time to talk every once in a while, bad things start to happen. You can get drunk and make it talk. That's good. It works. But it causes more complications than it fixes. Or at least as many. So.
Here I am , waiting for someone to smash in the driver's side window and shoot me a couple of times and dump my body out in the street. I hope that doesn't happen. I guess I should have cleaned the car off (laughter
) if that happens.
I'm watching to see if the rear defroster is going to turn off. It's on a timer of some sort. It's not really doing much good against an inch of snow and ice. The front [defroster] is faring a little bit better. There's some distinct pooling going on towards the base of the windshield. There's spotting above, behind the rear-view mirror, near the I-Pass, behind the sticker that says when I should get my oil changed that I'll probably ignore well beyond that point.
I wonder if somebody is going to be looking in the window after the snow melts. That would be pretty scary, especially if that somebody were a cop. Not that I'm carrying anything illegal on me. Well, (sound of a zipper
) other than that (laughter
).Part II upcoming.
Labels: things with the phrase "not the point", transcriptions