sandiness=sadness

even on manhattan i don't live near the water. closer than i used to be when i was living in the bronx but now it's different; just blocks away and yet... incedibly removed. maybe it's all the bridges. i'm not sure what the problem is but i think it might be a reliance on the airport. it seems as though mechanical birds are always flocking to some exotic sea coast. the only way to get to the beach is to fly south for the winter. jet set. winged freedom. i want champagne a jam. i want chili a cook off. i live a life of decadence. sipping 22's of presidente and eating at mr. taco like 3 times a week. i fool myself into thinking that superficial realities don't get this good. ['superficial realities'] their unattractive features are covered in a thick glaze of gloss so that my eyes' light is cast off without interpretting anything. shines right off while the rest of me is dull and dense. wet and disjointed. ready and unwilling. never-the-less, prepeared to loyally serve from within the hourglass.
...this is how i've been thinking. in bits and pieces.
i'm not sure how else to write about this sandiness.