Apr 7, 2004

To quote a phrase
The kitchen is floored in mottled turquoise linoleum, spattered white with paint and spotted black where the carpet used to be pasted down. It's rusted out around the base of the heater and worn through to the plywood beneath the sink where I stand fiddling with the radio dial, turning through static and sports casts to public radio playing jazz.

"Am I listening to jazz?" says Peter on the phone with his girl fried. He grins at me. "I never listen to jazz. I know it’s awesome."

He grins again, phone cradled between chin and shoulder, and pretends to dance on our kitchen floor.