This story proves I don’t always get the last word, but I do often get the last laugh.
After work I went to the nearest inconvenience store to buy a lottery ticket.
(If you ask why I bother buying lottery tickets, it’s because they won’t give them to me at no charge. Duh.)
Anyway, I’m careful when I pull in to that particular store. Fellow visitors to this particular store sometimes display a disregard forcommon traffic laws. Such as driving blindfolded, for example.
I had to hit the brakes and come to a complete stop in order to avoid a car that tried to exceed the speed limit going in reverse as they backed out of the space adjacent to the building.
Someone behind me braked hard enough to cause a squeal. The driver hit the horn to announce the size of their genitals.
I pulled into the spot the reversing speed demon just left. The car that had almost hit me from behind raced up to park on my right.
I exited my little blue car and walked around the front. The man driving the car said something I didn’t understand.
“What?” Sometimes I’m really eloquent.
Asking him to repeat himself must have been a burden because he shook his head.
I expected something derogatory. And he probably meant it that way. He glanced along my car. “You’re so gay you can’t even drive STRAIGHT.”
While I’ve seen the phrase on social media, it fit the situation perfectly. Naturally I burst out laughing, which confused the guy.
His insult tickled me.
PS If I ever see him behind me again, of course I’ll do the logical thing and crash through the side of the building to avoid inconveniencing him.
I have immunity from boredom. It’s like time is compressed for me most of the time. Regardless of the environment, I have the literal world in this little rectangular box I’m typing into. Music, opinion, language(s), ideas. Not to mention an endless supply of things and objects that can be reformed or used to occupy my hands and brains. I also have the entire outside world. I’m lucky enough to have a car that I can get in and go when I want. And still have two healthy feet to propel me. I’ve yet to take a walk where something interesting was lacking.
One of our worst attributes is that we tend to focus on what we perceive to be missing. Instead of the wild luxury that was not available for most of human history. The tendency to seek what we think we’re missing is also a great source of pain in our personal lives.
For those who like to think about thinking, it’s either liberating or debilitating. It’s existential and separating.
But because the internet can be a cringefest or a personal revelation, I sometimes don’t say the things that many of us have in common but never talk about. At least not authentically. Vulnerability is the undershirt that we hide under a thick jacket. Even when someone dares to strip away the ego-driven layer, we universally agree to look away or let our awkwardness keep us from diving in.
Because I do so much, I have an astounding amount of content floating around the internet without any attribution to me. Sometimes, it comes back to me transformed. Which makes me feel seen and heard in ways that I’m not in my personal life. It’s a constant staccato of surprise for me because the people around me have their own idea of who I am, reinforced by the experiences they share with me, molded by whatever environment we’re in. Most of those environments are not authentic.
My next door neighbor “Phillip” forgot about my cameras.
I turned on “Magic Mode,” a new feature for Wyze cameras. I didn’t read the tutorial about the new capabilities of my cameras. Evidently, the camera is magic due to its ability to see things as they are, instead of concealing what’s right in front of us.
Although “Phillip” rides a motorcycle most of the time, I realized that each year as fall deepens, the smell of cinnamon and pine seem to fill the air when he walks by. I hear strange bells at night. My cat Güino does too. His little ears are constantly pointing up and in the direction of the apartment next door.
You’ll note in the pictures that my Wyze cameras are now revealing an obvious fact: my next door neighbor is Santa.
He pulls a trailer behind his truck when he’s not riding his motorcycle. He’s not fooling anyone. That’s just a sleigh cleverly disguised.
To add insult to injury, take a look at what his huge red gift bag says: “Not Santa.” I bet if I ask him about that, he’ll say he’s being ironic and funny.
I fully expect that by the time December greets us, “Phillip’s” costume will morph into the red and white clothing of Santa that we all recognize and love.
I know “Phillip” won’t put me on the naughty list. Not because I don’t deserve it, but because my name is already there, so there’s no point duplicating the effort.
I’ll keep y’all updated.
PS The magic mode is truly magical for my cameras. (Also, you’ll note that FB has tried to tag these photos as AI. Santa has a powerful reach, doesn’t he?)
Random fact… This isn’t a hieroglyph. If you have a careful eye, you might see them in odd places. This one is supposed to mean “Do not climb.” Typically it’s placed on poles needing replacement.
Over time, I’ve concluded that many of these are nailed into poles that are, in fact, way easier to climb than normal poles.
I’ve ordered 535 of them. One for each member of Congress.
“Anyone who posts words, policy, or statements by our current president for any purpose other than mockery or excoriation can no longer be taken seriously regarding any societal, political, or economic consideration.”
I can cite countless examples. The government shutdown can be ended without any Democrats voting in favor of it. By changing the filibuster rules, Trump and his Republican devotees can pass the budget bill immediately if they choose to do so. Given the increasing risk that Congress shall soon become an anachronism without teeth, it’s ridiculous to worry about tomorrow’s fire when our shoes are melting today.
People reposting Trump’s ill-informed and uneducated rants in support of something that’s factually untrue isn’t surprising. If racism, misogyny, fraud, and incitement toward insurrection aren’t deal breakers, it’s a deep well from which to draw an infinite spiral of malevolent ridiculousness.
If Trump wishes to be king, then let’s proceed with the coronation so that we can move on to a broken democracy. At least under that scenario, we will not be victim to an ongoing onslaught of “WTF”
moments, nor continue to hope for an end to the madness.
We can acclimate ourselves to the loss of the country we grew up in because we’ll have no other choice.
This isn’t politics. It’s madness and mayhem, driven by someone completely unfit to run a household, country, or company.
This picture was taken 29 years ago, 10,592 days. Almost half a life ago, a fulcrum that seems impossible at this point. It was supposed to happen on Halloween that year, but logistics conspired to make that difficult.
Most of us like to imagine going back and being able to look forward, seeing the relentless incremental changes that we choose or are foisted on us. The acceleration of change that’s almost invisible while we’re experiecing it. Can you imagine reliving the moments as instantaneous bullets of laughter, agony, and experience? Most of us would choose it, even if it’s a roller coaster that leaves us lying on the pavement, asking ourselves why we got back on the ride, knowing how it would end.
Every cell of our bodies has changed, but the memories remain – if we’re lucky. I took a moment to fling open the door early this morning, remembering, and then bolted it shut afterward.
I know I drone on and on sometimes about the difference in colors during the vampire hours. It’s twice as pronounced after a rainy day like yesterday. No matter how high my heart rate got at the top of some of the hills this morning, each time I reached a crest, the blustery wind quickly and insistently reminded me that the cold approaches. This type of beautiful October morning is a warning for anybody trying to keep their hair straight.
I found some beautiful Halloween decorations. There were houses more ornately adorned than that of the picture I’m sharing. But none surpassed the amazing saffron glow emitted by the house in the picture. I could see it from quite a distance. It does not razzle dazzle with complexity but passersby will strain their necks to determine the origin of the beautiful lights.
The picture I took from one of the hilltops is a failure. I love the way it looks, though. Taking pictures like that is drunk poetry. A lot of mumbling, and sometimes a random truth coherently stated.
Yesterday, I made a ginormous pot of homemade chili, using five different types of beans. Coincidentally, I think I solved our energy problem, but decorum inhibits me from further explanation.
I forgot to mention that I got dragged into the hunt for a fugitive last week. This is one of those things that initially sounds like I’m kidding. I wasn’t worried about my safety. Fugitives tend to try to keep a low profile, unlike people who have recently discovered a low carb diet, pilates, or a social/political issue they know nothing about.
As I wandered around this morning, I took note of all the vehicles crammed into unusual places due to the football game. A lot of my neighbors don’t know there is a small police impound for cars right across the street. There were two extra long flat tow trucks blaring their horns constantly as they dropped off vehicles. It was an annoying series of drop-offs. Because I am comedically inclined, I will point out that the security system consists of one singular camera pointed at the gate. I was originally going to post a picture of the gate, but I don’t want to encourage thievery. Anyone who needs money should do it the old fashioned way and become a congressman. Why steal a $10,000 car when you can become a millionaire without accountability?
“Learning without thinking is labor lost and thinking without learning is perilous.” Confucius warned us about the futility of unanchored ideas. But then again, his name suggests he was always a little confused. His real name was Kong Qui, which reminds me of the name of an algebraic equation. Also, while Confucius emphasized family life and values, he was divorced. I bet his wife wouldn’t stop nagging him to do the dishes.
I’m not one prone to superstition. But I do love glitches in the matrix, déjà vu, or those weird moments that have an explanation but seem sublime at the time.
I walked a massive loop so that I could traverse 112 in the dark. To hear the horses answer me as I called, because they want to be petted even at 3:00 a.m. To stand in the middle of the darkness and be blanketed by the thunder of insects.
Coming back, I didn’t realize I overshot the connecting road back to my apartment. I turned down Sycamore heading east as I admired the beautiful brick inlay crosswalk. A man on a three-wheeled bicycle startled me just as much as I startled him. He wasn’t there a second before and he certainly seemed surprised for me to appear in front of him. On the back of his bicycle was a stack of bread rolls. It’s not something you see every day, a man on a three-wheeled bicycle with a cart in the back, holding bread rolls that early in the morning.
Even though I was heading east toward home, I realized I had turned south on Lawson. I started getting that weird vibe. So instead of turning back, I kept going. I hadn’t been to the next block in a few weeks. They’re building some beautiful residences along there.
When I hit the corner of Lawson and Oakland, I was astonished to see a fully finished two-story building on the corner. I couldn’t believe the building appeared in an empty lot so quickly. A white four-door sedan was too close to the corner. I noticed it because the overhead street light illuminated the interior of the car. I noticed no one was in the car, even though it felt like I was going to see someone behind the wheel. I also took a moment to smell the scent of wood smoke from somewhere nearby. It’s too early in the year to smell it, but it was a welcome preface to the October just around the corner.
After a block, I turned to head back around to home. Even though I wanted to, I knew I couldn’t walk forever. I’d already forgotten about my astonishment at seeing the new construction being finished on the corner.
Walking back along the same street from the other direction, I noticed the huge vertical stack of wooden pallets next to the street sign. The light coming through them made a really interesting pattern. I took out my phone to take a picture.
That’s when the hair on the back of my neck stood up. I was standing at the corner of Oakland and Lawson, the same corner where I’d experienced the surprise of seeing the building appear so quickly since the last time I went through.
The corner doesn’t have a building on it. It’s just foundations. And of course there was no white four-door sedan under the street light.
I had a cup of coffee before I started my long walk, and even though I had walked a couple of hours, tiredness didn’t explain the hallucination of seeing the completed building or the car parked under the steet light.
All I could do was laugh at the absurdity of attributing it to my overactive imagination or unexpected deja vu.
If I come back to Oakland and Lawson in a few months, I expect to see two-story buildings on the corner. They’ll be dark blue or dark gray with the windows trimmed in white. And maybe there will be a white four-door car under the street light.
I didn’t capture the stack of pallets that would be on the right side of the picture. It took quite a bit for the feeling of deja vu to disappear. I finally gave in to the urge to look at my watch to see that it was really the 27th of September. I would not have been surprised if the date wasn’t what I expected.
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.”
P.S. Parenthetically Speaking 