THIS IS A READ-ONLY ARCHIVE FROM THE SORABJI.COM MESSAGE BOARDS (1995-2016). |
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it's harder than it sounds. oregon summernights aren't even particularly warm, let alone hot. in the foothills of mount hood, with winds coming off the gorge. beautiful sly, as close as you can get to portland and see more than a handful of stars. you have your t-shirts and sweats on, your sleeping bags on the trampoline, shoes lost in the grass. three feet above the ground on the summit of an ancient volcano, the breezes of summer waft so coolly that you'll swear your zipper will give you frostbite, but you don't cae. you're barely a teen and alive, there's so much ahead and complaining would make you one of them. but there's no sleep yet to be had. what to do? why walk to town, of course. there's nothing to do in town anyway, except run around breathless and giddy; high on life, but who cares? so out come the greens and blues and browns. sweatshirts and stocking caps and socks. and you go. every light is another threat of discovery. nobody knows who or where you are, no gods no masters. when the lights go by, into the ditch you go. blackberries and sheeps shit you"ll worry about later. suddenly one stops, backs up. "a little past your bedtime?" bedtime? bedtime! there is no bedtime for tough girls in green. press on, press on. finally there's a sidewalk, buzzing yellowed lights twenty feet above. you've made it. the two blocks of town in farmurbia northwest, a couple of skaters and a schoolchum's mother. so back home you go. ditchdiving back to the volcano. |
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you're kicking ass, pez. |
And its also a gold mine when your doing it at the Hostess Bakery. we played 'hit the deck' as a kid dodging headlights...diving into the bushes staying out past 9 on summer nights. I was 10 though. |
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same game, though. |
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but tom foolery visits everyone. |
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but what do you think (of the story?) |
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However it doesn't compare with naked Leia and a battery powered lightsaber. |
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