Monday, January 03, 2005

Juxtaposition

An eclectic mess.

The traffic flow dances to the aboriginal rhytm seeping from beneath the concrete. I however, am not in tune with this rudimentary drumming. So I sing, loudly and offkey behind the safe confines of my rolled up windows. The strong thumping of a washboard infused with Zydeco spice. The soulful wail of Sarah Vaughn and Ella Fitzgerald echo against the glass. George Strait's Texas charm annoints my drive. The Smiths and Pink Floyd fuel my angst.

I am an eclectic mess. But I wouldn't have it any other way.

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