vinyl confessions & her friends

Diggin’ it.

verbreverb:

Glamour Lakes - Have Answers 

He gave none of his attention to the weather. This was a rarity in the 4 miles by 5 miles rectangular suburbia that he was raised in. There, the weather channel was their favorite TV program. He felt no connection to the world that blared through the voices of the weather man, the weather woman, the news radio, the celebrated sunday cartoons, the heroism of animated television characters. But he read the newspaper every day, a day late, at night. He did this for his pen-pal, whose name he didn’t know. He could tell she didn’t care either, about the weather, or the news, or the cartoons. But he had a strange need to keep her informed. So he wrote to her, with the eloquence of sentences from the South (where he had never been), short, quick. He included newspaper clippings of the stories that weren’t about the news, or the weather, or cartoons. Factoring in the mail time, his day late reading, and the time it took him to find a story that didn’t seem meaningless, her information must have come 5 days late. He found pleasure in this. They were always behind together. She wrote him less often. He was ok with this, it must have meant she took her time with the clippings. He could tell that she could tell who he was. She once wrote “You have the charm of the defeated.” He agreed. It was this, and his physical structure, and his youth, which made him impossible to forget. He didn’t see the latter in himself. He didn’t see much in himself but his defeat. But he decided that she was just the same, charming, defeated, impossible to forget. They were strangers with mutual sympathy for the misunderstood. They never met.