| Current mood: |  restless |
| Current music: | led zeppelin |
| Entry tags: | ames |
A little nuclear
Electricity fills the air in Ames... a sort of buzzing tension gives breath to the cement beneath the feet of dazed giants wandering up Welch Avenue... the normal traffic retreats to make way for a fleet of polished insects driven by wild-eyed parasites with aging crew cuts. Manic energy simultaneously stifles and propels the breeze, and lightning and acid raindrops slide off the gusts into the stagnant air, onto the asphalt, between the stones and grit down into the still-damp soil, setting the earthworms' nerves alight (they become suddenly restless). The trees' neon buds threaten to overwhelm time with their speed, flash open then snap closed like mouths in a stunted old horror film. Anxious fleeting grins, scattered thoughts kept at the surface by the magnetized air and sickly red atmosphere wet with condensation. There are no chemicals, but the people cannot breathe. Shrill guitar notes fade as one progresses through the rolling mounds of a drowning city.
We live underground, on the Other Side, and we see the peaks and lulls and waves and love them. We anticipate them and covet them and eat them with our wooden shovels. We use our pink bandanas as napkins and smile when it's over, our throats clogged with bile and tobacco smoke.
That's what Ames feels like tonight. I don't want to write my paper. I want to watch.
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mostdefinitely) wrote,
