At 6:30 this morning, the scent of ocean struck me even before I opened the door; gleaming pale fog clung to the houses and trees, obscuring the runnel of traffic already building. As I bobbled along, I found myself singing, off-tune and wavering, under my breath.
“There’s a bright golden haze on the meeeeadow
There’s a bright golden haze on the meadow
The corn is as high as —-
I am gonna swat that girl.”
From “Elli” e-mail@whatsis.huh
Subject: Bright golden haze on the meadow
Date: Wed, 21 Sep 2005 14:16:42 +0200
To: “Elsa” e-mail@whosis.huh
Darn you straight to heck, Elli.
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Aw, shucks. Gosh awful sorry I ruint yer pretty mornin’, but did I really send that? That was ages ago. Today we’re humming Squirrel Nut Zippers.
Gaaaah!
I am currently cramming in Magnetic Fields and Roxy Music as fast as I can. If that doesn’t work, I will apply doses of T.Rex. That Marc Bolan can scrape your brain clean.