Because my neighbor Monica’s car was kaput, I had to take her and her young daughter Susan to the ER. Susan ate half a roll of quarters. She was more nervous than in pain. The ER doctor told Monica to monitor Susan.
No change yet.
Dumb
Trap
Fly tape isn’t nearly as entertaining as human tape. There’s a lot more flailing around upon exit.
.
Sunday Slaps
It was a beautiful Sunday morning, even though no one had notified everyone that it wasn’t Saturday night anymore. It was about 60° at 2:00 a.m. Perfect walking weather. Sounds carry through the air almost infinitely.
Because it was so early on a Sunday morning, I knew the crazies would be out. I barely cleared the trail crossing on Poplar before hearing the glorious early morning serenade of multiple women screaming and slapping each other. I’ll put a video as a comment. I took it from about a quarter of a mile away. The slapping sounds like fireworks. I turned on Chestnut because I misjudged the origin.
I wound my way through the Chestnut II apartments as the screaming intensified.
“I’m not drunk, Dad. That b**** is gonna get smashed.” Multiple young women were walking in circles and either talking on their phones or screaming. I walked right through them like I was on a safari. The nexus of the tumult was a few feet away at a corner apartment, where other women were in various stages of demonstrating humankind’s lack of advancement. I felt sorry for the dad who had been awakened between 2:00 and 3:00 a.m. by his daughter clearly demonstrating that she was in fact drunk.
As fierce as the screaming was, I knew it was all bluster. Before I made it back to the side street, I saw one of Fayetteville’s finest rolling into the area. I wish I could have stuck around to hear the police say “STFU and go to bed” multiple times. But there’s always one alcohol-fueled person who insists on getting bracelets to mark the occasion. Another police car soon followed. I’m guessing they were bored and wanted to watch a live-action version of Jerry Springer.
There were enough angry women to fill the Razorback’s defensive line. I’m betting there was a man named Chad or Marquise somehow at the center of it all. My half of the species is invariably at the crux of this kind of late night / early morning anger.
The picture is one I took in near darkness. I stood on Miller Street, watching the driver try to figure out how to make a turn. There’s no question that whoever was in the car was using Jack Daniels as their GPS.
A picture I took in almost total darkness, looking south toward the hill on Woolsey. It’s a very popular deer path at that hour of the morning.
When I came into the apartment, I forgot that I had totally sweet talked a cat into letting me pet it. When I got down on the ground it walked all over me and rubbed on my head. Güino knows. 🙂
Duh!
I passed through my old favorite go-to spot near Gordon Long park. I laughed, looking at the oil stain in front of the steep incline going across the water dam on Scull creek.
For those who didn’t see the picture, someone drove a U-Haul van from Drake Street across the serpentine new trail that connects to The Greenway by the park. They got stuck and teeter-tottered on the concrete drop off as they tried to use the trail as a highway.
I hollered, “Watch out for U-Hauls” to a few people.
If it can happen once, it can happen again.
PS Scull Creek was named after a family rather than a skull. I tell everyone a completely different origin story if it comes up. It’s our job to make local history as argumentative as possible.
Of Golden
A special someone of kindred spirit surprised me with a book in the mail. She took the time to conceal it inside bright paper, obviously appropriating one of my favorite ways to conceal a gift.
I don’t check my mail very often. Or anyone else’s, for that matter, in case you were wondering. I walked over to throw something in the communal trash. Without realizing I was doing it, I meandered over and opened my mailbox and realized that I had a surprise.
Because I am always laden with both markers and scalpel, I opened it under the clearest October sky you can imagine.
Because she is an ardent bibliophile, I knew the book would have special personal meaning just for me.
It was her inscription written inside the cover that wounded me joyfully. I reread it and suddenly seemed to have dust in my eyes, unseen particles that made them teary.
I would never be so gauche as to mention Marjay by name, or to publicly thank her for the kindness. She not only gave me a surprise, but also a little universe inside a book that she thinks I already live inside, wrapped a little like I might.
I’m certain I will love the imaginary world in this book. I’ll read it with my recently restored eyes. And probably finish it with a rejuvenated heart.
Criminal?
Uh oh.
I think my neighbor hasn’t been perfecting her malfeasance
They’re on to her.
.
Fanta
A beautiful early morning for a walk. It was strange to be chilly.
Oddly, I heard five different Shouters this morning. Those are the people whose neighbors want to go outside and clobber them into silence. They have nothing to say but they say it with volume and incoherence. It seldom works out if you try to say anything to them. They are either belligerent, under the influence, or Republicans. (Sorry, it was too easy of a joke to pass up.) The best revenge is to get a 12 volt battery and a motorcycle horn or used car horn and put it near their front door, drop the wire on the other terminal, and walk off. “STFU” works well as a parting note to leave attached. I’m just passing that along if you’re short on ideas.
The fella in the picture waited for me just after the art building by the trail nexus. He made me go through the ritual of talking to him in a ridiculous tone of voice before he started doing gymnastics and let me run my fingers through his fur. I named him Fanta.
Color
Just a little color at 7:09 p.m. A shot taken of the beautiful color-shifting sky, from behind my new bottle light project.
.
Moment
I took this picture after the one I posted last night of the beautiful bottle lights competing with the sunset for color dominance.
I watched her sit on the tailgate of my neighbor Mark’s truck, taking pictures and trying to capture the same brilliance I was seeing. I don’t know her at all, but she’s a young mother. You can’t see her kid sitting beside her playing because the truck bed obscures it. It’s a memory for her, and a cotidian moment that can’t be expressed adequately with words.
She’s gonna be fine as long as she keeps trying to capture what she sees.
Fall Fell
I took the picture around 12:30. I knew I needed to walk up the hill and stand where the wind would push hard. It sounded like several hundred pieces of paper being rubbed together by a mob of angry teachers.
When the drops started at 12:47, the change in the smell was dramatic. You can probably imagine the smell from the picture. I felt truly young for a moment. In part because I was alone up there.
I zigzagged down the hill a bit and stood under the open spot in the canopy I discovered a couple of months ago. The wind found me again as I became a little soaked.
The moment was fall in a way that can be experienced but rarely described.
