Friday, December 17, 2010

Pineapple Express

The last week in Seattle, it rained. It rained and rained. All sound was drowned out by the urgent swipe-swipe-swipe of the windshield wipers, the sound of perpetual drumming on the roof and the gush of flooded drainage ditches. Basements soured under two feet of standing water. You felt perpetually soggy, if not all-out drenched. Denim doesn't dry, the washer and dryer in the basement are floating. 
It's even raining in the mountains. The Pineapple Express- a lovely term for such an irritating weather system, but so freakishly warm, mist hitting your face like a warm veil. Everything starts to feel weak and watered down. Your coffee, your sleep.  The rain won't stop. It seems to be representative of more, as if life was a poorly written short story and you're standing in front of a sleepy classroom: what does the weather signify? Write it down, please. 

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