12JUL08 – I am awakened from an out-of-control nap by a series of sustained booming noises, which echo and ripple gently through the cavern of my slumbering bones. Sitting upright among the tousled sheets, the unexpected sounds of a quasi-distant fireworks display unfolds in my bedroom, disorientating me. For a moment I can’t place the source, and imagine that perhaps God had gotten a wild hair up his ass and decided to hold small arms practice at 930 at night. I step into clothing chosen at random from the clean pile on my bedroom floor and make it to the rooftop in time to catch the grand finale. Roman candles finger the night, worming higher and deeper toward celestial pleasure, resulting in brief orgasms of red, gold, blue and white.
The breeze is perfect. If I didn’t know better I’d say it’d been manufactured in a warehouse somewhere across town; pulled from a rack of pre-existing templates, infused with the carefree exuberance of a mid-summer night, and released into the wild from giant ventilation ducts by apple-cheeked and idealistic NOAA interns. The moon is a drunken spotlight suspended from the roof of the sky as lights from approaching commercial aircraft glide toward me like stars on a zip line, just one of many methods used by jaded cosmic roadies to move constellations into position for the next show.
Tonight is perfect for red wine, or a hot cup of coffee. I have neither, and nothing stronger to take my mind off the hook. Truth be known, I was napping because I had nothing better to do, nowhere to go, and no money to spend once I got there. Tonight I sail into the doldrums, and as I stand mute upon the creaking deck my thoughts drift toward food, and creature comforts. I consider a late night snack, remembering too late that convenience keeps cruel hours and my larder is nearly empty.
I began the day fantasizing about Donna’s, a comfortable little diner located in Juneau’s Mendenhall Valley:
Donna’s! Breakfast! Booths! Coffee! Wizened waitress once lithe wrists’ wrapped in sweat snap tired gum and call me honey! Parking lots full of silvery diesel behemoths! Donna’s! Vast omelet’s touch all sides of massive white platters still hot from red heat lamps! Donna’s! Unlimited menu! Donna’s! Where breakfast is everything and everything is breakfast! Donna’s! Gargantuan hunter’s t-shirts’ stretched thin to extinction! Donna’s! Belts weeping from strain! Donna’s! Dusty plastic foliage rising to impressive heights from cracked terracotta! Donna’s! Your plants are choked with aquarium gravel and cigarette butts! Donna’s! American flag hangs crisp and void of irony! Donna’s! Shoehorned tight between gun store and used book store! Donna’s! Huddled in the shadow of a retreating glacier! Donna’s! Your cash registers are not from this century! (My apologies to Allen Ginsberg.)
Will fight evil for food,