Last night I was walking through the dusk. This is only noteworthy because, although I've taken many strolls recently, few of them have been nocturnal. I'm more vulnerable to depression and anxiety in the evening, and therefore less inclined to venture outside. When I wake up, the day is a blank slate on which a very productive story could be written. As the sun sinks in the west, I've inevitably wasted opportunities and left many things undone, foremost among them finding a girlfriend or even a sustainable, emotionally fulfilling friendship.
The occasion was just a visit to Rainbow to pick up a family-sized bag of Cheetos and a six-bottle-pack of Coke (A man can work up a powerful appetite when he's unemployed.), a stop by the Loon to purchase the 3 new flavors of Mountain Dew and make my voice heard as a consumer (I can't help it. The colors look really tasty.) and a sojourn to Hollywood to rent a decent-looking documentary on World War I. (How much do you know about World War I? If you're an American, like me, probably very little.)
It's nice indulging in a promenade on a summer's eve. (Remember that feminine hygiene product? Yeah.) The sky is pretty, the temperature is cooler (but still uncomfortable in this case) and the sun's tyranny is at an end. Also, there are shadows in which anything could be lurking: a mugger, a possum, a new summer love? As I passed the laundromat by Muddy Waters and the Leaning Tower of Pizza, I caught a subtle insinuation of Deep Woods Off on the breeze. It was a fond reminder of summers-gone-by. I don't know if I can reclaim that feeling.