As for this morning’s long walk, it was interspersed with too many people suffering from yesterday’s choices and last night’s anger. The contradiction of one of the last summer mornings cool breeze and moisture-laden air. The distant lightning flashing like old memories. I will wager that all of the people I witnessed suffering from their inability to take a chill pill and go to sleep will one day think back and wonder what made everything feel so urgent and dramatic. That’s what age gives you; a recognition that one of the ways to try to be happier is to remember all the times It felt like everything was an emergency, or that your feelings that seemed so monumental will soon be forgotten. Replaced by new emergencies.
When I passed the two beautiful young people arguing relentlessly on the curb along Leverett, I wanted to stop instead of passing by without comment. I wanted to tell them that they had youth, beauty, and the luxury of a good education. And maybe it would be better for them to stop opening bottles until they had control of their emotions. I didn’t, of course. Almost a block away, the strong wind carried their fruitless words to me. They might as well have been shouting into the wind instead of each other.
I took a few pictures, but none was so eerie as that of the forgotten streetside vehicle. In a good world, I wouldn’t hesitate to check the doors in order to save somebody the surprise of a dead battery. After checking to ensure that no one was passed out inside, I took a long exposure to illuminate the incredibly dark neighborhood, one in which the railside and gentrified beautiful houses sit quietly.
“I couldn’t be around them. They all had smoke on their tongues. You know who I mean. The energy vampires who you never catch being encouraging. The ones who complain just eloquently enough to make you forget they are problem-oriented. They don’t look for glimmers or things to be happy about. Nah, they search for proof that they are right to be unhappy and cynical. And guess what? They find them around every corner. You might not be wise enough to recognize it yet, but they’re trying to recruit you. Misery loves company and it is always trying to find ways to get you to sign up.”
After work, I was standing two feet away from the trail spur. An older white guy on a bicycle started screaming. “On your f left!”
Actual screaming.
I waved and smiled out of habit.
It’s important that you realize I wasn’t on that side of the trail spur. I was standing on the outside. Which means I was on his right, in case you’re related to this guy and are accustomed to hearing upside-down world stupidity.
He stopped his bicycle. “Didn’t you hear me? Get the f*** out of the way!” He was a lot closer to me than he intended. I could have pushed him and toppled him over like a bad glass of chardonnay. leaving him entangled in his expensive bike.
I looked down at my feet, seeing that they were clearly in the grass and two feet away from the pavement.
Fire blossomed in my brain. “What the f*** are you cursing at me for? I’m not in your way or even on the trail spur.”
“When I tell you to move, get your ass out of my way.” He was angry. Like someone had stolen the bra he kept hidden under his bed.
“Sir, I suggest you depart with as much haste as you can muster. Because if you come closer to me or scream again, I’m going to tie your legs around your bicycle like a pretzel.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“No. I’m offering you the opportunity to become involuntarily limber. Now piss off.”
He called me a particularly interesting name as he started pedaling away. Because the crosswalk is 13 ft from the turn, the bicyclist did not have the right of way across the very busy road where people fly constantly.
He was so angry that he started across without looking in either direction. He was too busy screaming at me with his head turned.
Time slowed to molasses. The car coming down the hill screeched to a halt. If you guessed that the man spent several seconds shaking his fist at the driver and cursing her, you would be right.
As the guy on the bike pedaled the rest of the way across the street, the driver hit the horn and held it. The bicyclist jerked in surprise and once again stopped and recited a long list of curse words at the driver.
When he looked across to see that I was laughing, I expected literal fire to burst out of his head.
Let’s just say I cut through a place I wasn’t supposed to be. The light rain and cool breeze felt amazing as I crept through the early morning. I had to keep reminding myself that it’s still summer. Goosebumps popped up along my arms several times. Mostly it was from the breeze and the light rain. A couple of times it was from the swirling shadows and silhouettes. I had to also remind myself that as far as I knew, I was alone in the dark, and unaccompanied in my exploration. It felt like a late October night night.
The most beautiful moment happened when I took a street that I don’t normally traverse. The breeze blasted me, bringing the sound of insects and harmonious wind chimes. For some reason, I had to see the origin of the wind chimes. I was certain whoever owned them would have an oasis in the middle of and often overlooked apartment row. I was right. From the street, I could see that plants filled the stairs leading up. I could also see colored lights glowing from inside.
As I precariously climbed in darkness. I took a literal leap of faith that I was as close to the ground as I was supposed to be. Walking back around required at least a couple of miles. I didn’t mind the extra miles, of course. I just wanted to see something different.
When I came through the brush onto the trail, flashing lights filled the air. I held my phone up so that whoever I was approaching would know someone was coming out of the dark.
Someone had the misfortune of being pulled over at the very end of the street where it abutts the wildness. As soon as I got past them, I saw a pair of eyes looking at me from inside the brush of Narnia. I changed the setting to video. I did not capture whatever little creature was watching me. But I did get a kaleidoscope, courtesy of the police.
I scribbled in chalk my prediction for today’s game in a dozen places.
I got back to the apartment a little wet and a little chilly. I wish that some days I didn’t have to sleep at all so that I could explore the imaginary world of the darkness.
I was out too early, looking to see a few spectacular meteorites from the Perseid meteor shower that is peaking this week. I know a couple of amazing dark spots in the middle of all this urban sprawl. But for some reason my feet took me west until I finally reached Deane Street. The modern trail and street lights they’ve installed are gorgeous. The first stretch looks like an infinite straight strip. On the north side, there is still a huge field that stretches north, with a northern perimeter that has surprisingly few lights to interrupt it. Facing away from the beautiful street lights, it’s one of the best urban views of the northern sky that can be had. It was beautiful before they modernized Deane. It’s still beautiful now, albeit in a different way.
As I walked, I stopped for fifteen seconds every few minutes so that I could watch and scan the sky for meteors. The third time I did so, I saw something running along in the tall grass. It turned out to be a small fox. Further along, I realized it was interested in me. I took out my camera and stood still. That’s how I got this amazing photo that is everything except the fox.
Shortly thereafter, at about 2:45 a.m., the blare of distant police and fire sirens to the south caused unseen animals out in the expanse of the field to howl and yap. I stopped about 100 yards away from the modern veterinary lab on Deane, listening in appreciation. A couple of barn and equipment buildings silhouetted against the sky. And that’s when I got to see my first meteorite streaking like a casual hello. It was short-lived but brilliant. That’s about all you can ask for. A couple of miles of walking in the dark gifted me with the briefest of illuminations.
As the economy sputters, and as I watch people seemingly dive into erroneous faith that encourages attitudes better left behind us, I stole that damn moment. Of course I would rather see a dozen meteorites. But it is the first bite of pizza that delights, or that split second when you lean in for the kiss you’ve waited for. Everything else is saturation and overindulgence.
An hour later, I still couldn’t bring myself to turn around. So I looped and walked along the mega car stores and the perimeter of the interstate. Absent traffic, there were amazing views of the night sky. Once you reach Chicory Place, you’ve encountered what I call Pocket Narnia. No street lights. No buildings. Animals and critters creeping without worry. It is a snippet of a perfect night view. The sound of insects holds its own against the background rumbling of the interstate that now seems to be five miles away. I can’t imagine that this little piece of Narnia will survive much longer, much like the original Narnia at the end of Leverett. “Everything changes, but not all of it is progress.”
When I took a minute to kneel and chalk a message on the concrete near the desolate Sam’s club, whoever was driving by slowed to a crawl. I ignored them, But also wondered what they thought they were seeing as they watched me leave a message, One that was almost Ecclesiastical.
I was lucky today. Despite walking too many miles, my accidental route didn’t drag me linearly. Had it done so, I would have had to call a friendly Uber to get back home. It amuses me that when I’m out here and forget time, it feels as much like home as sitting in my office chair.
I’m probably the only one I know who appreciates how beautiful Garland/112 is on these early summer mornings before the sun even considers gracing us. I walked right down the middle of this road that is still somehow two lanes. The dome of the sky enveloped me. The modern buildings the U of A intermittently installed become invisible. The view from there is largely the same as it was seventy years ago.
As I came parallel to the Y-park, I turned and stopped to listen to the ocean of insects and to briefly remember a late night there forty years ago. My second meteorite of the night interrupted my reverie. If I didn’t know better, I might swear that the universe is trying to remind me that there are no moments unworthy of distraction.
Because I’m out and about at the weirdest times, I often notice patterns, even when I’ oblivious to them for a long time. It’s hard to define what looks off or weird, but once you recognize it, you pay attention, even if only in passing.
And that’s where the unavoidable urge for shenanigans started.
I mentioned the specifics to a friend, which was an error on my part. Because once I vocalized my idea, it became an imperative.
I’d noticed that people were acting suspiciously. I don’t mean the “they voted conservative” type of suspicious. Walking in zigzags, looking around way too much, and reaching on top of places that normally aren’t touched. (Unless you are a pigeon.)
It took me two times to realize that what they were retrieving was something another person was leaving in the agreed upon place. Which lead me to the conclusion that whoever was leaving the item had a line-of-sight to the spot. I’m sure they were watching from one of the apartments on either side. Since the trees have been removed in that area, visibility is much better for nefarious activity. And bird watching. I had my doubts about the bird watching.
Which meant I had to be careful. Or go in disguise. It’s not like I could drive up in my inconspicuous bright blue little car, jump out wearing my cape, and startle the participants. I thought about putting on my squirrel mask and magic cloak to avoid being identified. Instead, I put on my weird winter hat and a mask, walked calmly up to the spot, and left several notes in the place in question. I’m sure having a winter hat on in the pre-dawn heat didn’t look the least bit suspicious. After all, I’ve seen people walking the street wearing their bed blankets.
I didn’t stick around to see what happened. Not just because I had to get to work, but because while I can run fast and creatively, I’d rather not try to outrun objects traveling at high velocity.
I’ll take bets that a couple of people made some strange faces when they found the notes I left.
I was a little vague in this post – and for obvious reasons.
Even though I’ve been a little too much in my head, this shenanigan made it much better.
I’ll include pictures of the some of the notes I left for the people who need to be less obvious in their attempts to break into dubious capitalism. You have to D.A.R.E. to make a profit, after all.
Don’t ask how far over the bridge I had to hang to take this picture in low light without a flash. I snapped it at 3:33 a.m. I’m not sure why I love this picture so much. I’m still on a long walk across Fayetteville. The U of A was gorgeous with both beautiful buildings and homes surrounding it. It’s a different experience at that hour, with strategically placed lights that disappear in the day. The crescent moon watched me as I navigated through places I should not have gone thanks to the road construction on West Maple.
Because I did not plan my route, the series of hills made me breathe harder than an octogenarian watching Dancing With The Stars. When I made my way back north, the breeze was a godsend. I was sweatier than JD Vance at a La-Z-Boy auction.
Another beautiful walk. I’m not home yet because I overestimated the arc of how far south I went. The incessant buzz of insects keeps me company as I wander.
Every new shiny place I passed was originally something else. Sometimes it clicks what those buildings used to be. 10 years ago. 50 years ago. I’m not sure whether these buildings are more historical than I am.
A huge bolt of lightning shook the neighborhood shortly before 1:30 a.m. Even though it’s rare for me, I had miraculously fallen back to sleep after waking up around midnight. I was dreaming so intensely that the lightning strike seemed to have followed me out of the dream. I’m certain that one part of the dream resulted from a conversation I had yesterday when I explained that I track how many days old I am.
It’s rare for me to remember my dreams vividly. Since my sleep pattern switched a few years ago, my brain retreats to a dead place that is more akin to hibernation than sleep.
Today is my first day off work all year. It didn’t occur to me that this was the case until late last week. I decided I would make the final decision as to whether I would work when I woke up this morning. And that if I didn’t go in, I would take a ridiculously long walk. I had to wait for the storm front the mostly move away. For those of you who weren’t up at 1:30, the lightning show was amazing.
I work with several hard workers who don’t get to enjoy the incredible benefit of paid time off. Some of them are losing almost a couple of hundred dollars per pay period because we lose the hours once we are capped out at the maximum. All of us appreciate that we work for an employer with good benefits. But all of us feel the cringe of being put in a situation where we can’t enjoy it because of understaffing. Whether I should say that or not is another issue. But everyone knows that burnout is unsafe for us as individuals and as workers.
Perhaps they grind of work is training for the upcoming economic mess. There is no doubt it is coming and its tendrils will affect all but a few of us. I can picture my grandma saying, “there ain’t no belt tightening when someone has taken your belt.”
My long walk was beautiful. The strange misty glow of the early morning-late night after rain lights. The smell from the rain and the clingng heat. The empty roads that I walked down the middle of. A family of raccoons that complained as I unknowingly walked by. An unseen young woman on one of the balconies of the beautiful modern apartments flanking Gregg, as she beautifully and melodically sang a song I wasn’t familiar with, and a song probably unwelcome to the ears of the other residents. (But for me, as an accidental audience, it was perfect.) The long stretches of both hill and road. The night time summer sky billowing with retreating white clouds. The occasional person on a scooter; some of them involuntarily participating in the morning.
I hated giving up ownership of the streets. Leaving the unobserved and frozen in time houses with all the residents tucked away inside.
It’s hard to explain how rounding a corner and seeing strange orange glow of a section of road brings on the same feelings that “Something Wicked This Way Comes,” or “Stranger Things ” It’s just a stretch of road illuminated by optical illusions. But you weren’t there when I looked to my left and saw a ground light being temporarily blocked by a cat who was creeping along the edge of the driveway. It was accidental synchronicity and caused the hair on my arms to stand. I stopped to take a picture of the light. But that’s all it is. People sound a little off when they try to express how such little moments are entirely different when they are experienced.
The same is true for most of us when we listen to someone describe their dream. The narrative loses the immersive magic that held the storyteller captive while they were experiencing it.
X
.
(I added the word death to the mailbox as a joke…)
…
The dream:
Instead of a tombstone, the grave was marked by a tall crystal spire. Somehow, I knew that it wasn’t an actual grave and that inside whatever what was in the ground was nothing more than a DNA sample.
The sun peeking through the trees was orange red and seemed off in a way I couldn’t precisely explain.
Even the air felt thin and reprocessed.
The dash of the dates didn’t initially make sense: “1967-23,666.” Then I realized whoever designed it knew about my penchant to calculate my age based on the number of days instead of years.
Turning my head, I saw that four people stood behind me. Each of them carried a vial of colored sand. The sand shown brilliantly, like ground diamonds.
They didn’t speak English but I understood them.
“Does anyone have anything they would like to say?” I couldn’t see who voiced the words.
“No. I think he said it all before he left.”
As I turned my head again, the four people moved closer. I didn’t step away. They passed through me as they approached the spire. I felt like I had become mist.
Each of them opened their tiny vials and poured the contents into a almost invisible seam about halfway up the spiral. Flashes of almost every color began washing over the grass around them.
They disappeared as the sky became dark, like a sped up movie traversing time. As I watched the sun slide down the sky, my field of vision collapsed into a single dot of rainbow colored light and then disappeared.
Because of the unique view my apartment grants me, I’ve noticed there are certain moments before sunrise when there are fleeting moments of beauty. This mimosa stands guard across the street, adjacent to the railroad tracks. Because of the beautiful trail enhancements and the modern lighting that adorns it, there are a handful of minutes when the mimosa seems to be backlit. The brooding clouds seen to enhance it. I took this picture twenty-two minutes before sunrise.
Some people dislike silk trees because of the perceived mess and the gnarled roots that provide unexpected trips. But if you are a fan of hummingbirds, butterflies, and bees, these are among the best places to stand and watch when the sun is attempting to toast your head.
If I could pick a time of day to render as static and unchanged, it might be the time shortly before sunrise. When the subdued colors are HDR and the world waits to be awakened. If you stand still, each minute changes both in hue and feel.
The second picture is looking down Leverett where it reaches its end against the agri park. To the left is Narnia, fourteen acres of dense, wild growth that holds thousands of birds and small animals. Even though it’s difficult to see, at the bottom of the first towering electrical pole is a public notice that this property will soon be erased to become a dense housing complex. Everything about this little private area will change forever when that happens.
It doesn’t resemble much seen up close. But under the darker sombrous canopy of trees above the creek, shimmering with sunlight shadows, it looked alien and transplanted. I wish I had brought my markers and chalk to further adorn it and give it a bit of life through color.
Traversing the creek, the water granted me a sudden reminder that light refraction hides unexpected depths and drop offs. More so in clear water. I did not bite my tongue as I stepped a foot deeper than I anticipated.
From there I found a delightful sand and sediment bar. Once stepped on, I sank a foot and a half. I’m glad it ended there because getting out of those things is more of a goal than a certainty.
If you know where to look, there’s a hidden field along Green Acres Road. And if you’re out early enough walking in the magical hour before dawn, you can stop and watch the bats frolic. If you stand next to the beautiful decaying tree and look up, the bats will perform for you. Although the approaching morning sun diminishes their visibility, you can look up and see the moon and Venus twinkling. I don’t go watch the bats often enough.
P.S. Parenthetically Speaking 