http://baroque.prosaic.nu Wed, 14 Sep 2005 07:38:54 +0000 http://backend.userland.com/rss092 en Something is drip-drip-dripping. Something is tap-tap-tapping. I’m furiously digging through my apartment to find the source of this indescribable, but ever-obnoxious, repetitive sound. It isn’t the faucets, but I turn the hot and cold handles tightly toward their origin. It isn’t anything spilling, slowly, from the refrigerator, but I align all ... http://baroque.prosaic.nu/?p=56 So I go to this retro/hipster/rockabilly barbershop to get my hair did. Its the only place I feel comfortable under the scissors, and its the first place I got my haircut in LA. In Hollywood, it was the nearest, most decent, and most affordable place on the red subway line. ... http://baroque.prosaic.nu/?p=50 She threads a finger through the hole in her sweater, using her other hand to a place her cigarette in an ashtray. She doesn’t use the combs designed to hold burning cigarettes, instead she places her Marlboro Red flat on the bottom of the ashtray, where it gives life to ... http://baroque.prosaic.nu/?p=46 We emerged from the parking garage into the bustling theme park that is the Grove in Los Angeles. Within the various corridors of the complex are boutiques, department stores, movie theatres, and farmers markets; a whole gamut of entertainment. The architecture is decidedly Las Vegas, evoking a strange sensation of ... http://baroque.prosaic.nu/?p=45 My new neighbors hate me. It didn’t start out as such a sordid relationship. In fact, upon their arrival across the hall, I helped them heave a sofa through their doorway. They sort of poked their heads into my apartment. “We love your wood floors!” one of them exclaimed, and I ... http://baroque.prosaic.nu/?p=44 “Maybe he’ll change his mind… I know I shouldn’t be hopeful,” he says to me, from the other end of the phoneline. I’m at a loss for words, because I understand his emotions and the desperation associated with loosing someone you love through a breakup. I think I know the ... http://baroque.prosaic.nu/?p=43 I sit across the room from parents who, for approximately 55 minutes, will play detectives. Bemused by the labyrinthine plot of their new favorite mystery-in-syndication, they scratch their chins and occasionally comment on the suspicious behavior of the show’s characters. Its a redundant game of role-play; they’re pretending to be ... http://baroque.prosaic.nu/?p=42 “…life in Paradise was not like following a straight line to the unknown; it was not an adventure. It moved in a circle among known objects. Its monotony bred happiness, not boredom.” -the unbearable lightness of being “I can’t ever imagine living in Los Angeles and wanting to move back to Oklahoma,” ... http://baroque.prosaic.nu/?p=40 Gaunt. It was the first word that came to his mind that morning. He always woke mouthing a single word, as if his subconscious was fighting to expel itself from his mind. The words were silent but harsh. Whoever lay next to him may notice the trembling of his lips, possibly ... http://baroque.prosaic.nu/?p=39 “So how is the salmon prepared?” my mother asks, with a quizzical look on her face - as if salmon were something as exotic and unfamiliar as calf’s-brain francobolli. After asking the question, she reclines on her dining chair and takes a sip of wine. “The salmon is grilled and ... http://baroque.prosaic.nu/?p=38