3.25.2004
Every now and then I like to write. So instead of saving to my computer someplace I decided I could post it in my blog. That's what blogs are for right? Aren't they? Why aren't you answering me? You've just become so difficult lately and now you aren't even answering me! Well. I can do the same you know? You just wait, I'm gonna stop and you're gonna be like "Hey, why did you stop. I was going to say something. I was just waiting for the right time." Well now is the right time. So you better pipe up. Hello! I can't believe you just hung up on me.
It’s Wednesday and I’m on my way to work. This yellow station wagon cuts me off and speeds away down the road. I don’t get mad I just look at the car real hard like, “you idiot.” Then I notice that a wheel is wobbling or something. I think about how I could pantomime a warning but give up when I realize I’d never catch up with him. Besides, he is probably an idiot. So right then I drive past this guy on a motorcycle dragging a trashcan behind him and I’m like, “That trashcan is going to have a hole in the bottom from the friction with the concrete.” Then I remember that it’s trash day and I completely forgot to take out the trash and there are 2 bags in the kitchen and we have a new big trash can outside that the city just provided and I totally filled it up the week before and then my train of thoughts is derailed by the next motorcycle guy. He’s got a ladder on there with him.
You know the old Bi-planes with the 2 wings? Well that’s the way the ladder was on his bike. Strapped to his back like he was going to try and fly over the trashcan when it was released. But I don’t drive to work through a shantytown circus so I know that’s not what’s going on.
So latter on down the road, I try and figure out what the two motorcycle guys possible needed a trashcan and ladder for so urgently. Why couldn’t they wait for a guy with a truck or a van or even a car? Anyway, latter on down the road a black dog strolls across the street in front of me. Which isn’t really an odd thing but right after that the wobble wheel station wagon comes pulling out of a driveway. I think for a moment that maybe he’s following me, but following in front of me. What’s that called when you follow someone, but you go in front, just so they don’t think you’re following them. There’s a word for that right?
Anyhow, he pulls out of a driveway and goes barreling down the road and I look over at his tire and it’s wobbling. I’m thinking maybe his tire will burst and he’ll lose control … I didn’t get to finish the rest of the thought, because that’s when his hubcap goes flying off. You know what I mean. It really doesn’t fly off, it kind of rolls off really fast. It hits the ground spinning like a tire and does a little loop circling behind the wagon like it’s trying to catch back up or go down one of those big yellow things you drop coins in for charity. It rolls for a little bit and then it flops over.
So then I think about how I could pantomime, “Hey buddy your hub cap just flew off like a guy with a ladder strapped to his motorcycle.” But the wagon is way gone.
You see cars without hubcaps all the time and you see hubcaps without cars. But it’s a rare treat to see the actual uncapping of a hub in motion. I consider this morning’s drive to work a rare treat and keep my eyes peeled for more pleasant surprises. Unfortunately the last thing I see is a man in a motorized wheel chair driving down the road. He was dressed head to toe in camouflage but I decide that’s really not that rare of a site. The rest of the day I wonder what all that might have meant. Were these some great signs from the cosmos? Telling me to turn back and empty my trash and fix my gutters before the dog gets run over by a car he didn’t see. Or was it just a normal drive to work?
On the drive back home I notice the hubcap lying on the ground under the bridge. I had plenty of time to notice because the traffic was backed up. They were cleaning the underpass and had the traffic down to one lane. Which again isn’t an odd thing unless you were with me on the drive to work the next morning.
You know the old Bi-planes with the 2 wings? Well that’s the way the ladder was on his bike. Strapped to his back like he was going to try and fly over the trashcan when it was released. But I don’t drive to work through a shantytown circus so I know that’s not what’s going on.
So latter on down the road, I try and figure out what the two motorcycle guys possible needed a trashcan and ladder for so urgently. Why couldn’t they wait for a guy with a truck or a van or even a car? Anyway, latter on down the road a black dog strolls across the street in front of me. Which isn’t really an odd thing but right after that the wobble wheel station wagon comes pulling out of a driveway. I think for a moment that maybe he’s following me, but following in front of me. What’s that called when you follow someone, but you go in front, just so they don’t think you’re following them. There’s a word for that right?
Anyhow, he pulls out of a driveway and goes barreling down the road and I look over at his tire and it’s wobbling. I’m thinking maybe his tire will burst and he’ll lose control … I didn’t get to finish the rest of the thought, because that’s when his hubcap goes flying off. You know what I mean. It really doesn’t fly off, it kind of rolls off really fast. It hits the ground spinning like a tire and does a little loop circling behind the wagon like it’s trying to catch back up or go down one of those big yellow things you drop coins in for charity. It rolls for a little bit and then it flops over.
So then I think about how I could pantomime, “Hey buddy your hub cap just flew off like a guy with a ladder strapped to his motorcycle.” But the wagon is way gone.
You see cars without hubcaps all the time and you see hubcaps without cars. But it’s a rare treat to see the actual uncapping of a hub in motion. I consider this morning’s drive to work a rare treat and keep my eyes peeled for more pleasant surprises. Unfortunately the last thing I see is a man in a motorized wheel chair driving down the road. He was dressed head to toe in camouflage but I decide that’s really not that rare of a site. The rest of the day I wonder what all that might have meant. Were these some great signs from the cosmos? Telling me to turn back and empty my trash and fix my gutters before the dog gets run over by a car he didn’t see. Or was it just a normal drive to work?
On the drive back home I notice the hubcap lying on the ground under the bridge. I had plenty of time to notice because the traffic was backed up. They were cleaning the underpass and had the traffic down to one lane. Which again isn’t an odd thing unless you were with me on the drive to work the next morning.
3.23.2004
3.21.2004
Felt like writing some.
My Feet Smell Like Mud
Lem didn't like the pocket on his black T-shirt. He stole the pic-n-rip from his mom's sewing kit and proceeded to remove it stitch by stitch. He sat on the edge of his bed. A black and white TV blaring some Warner Brothers cartoon. You know the kind with the celebrities that aren't alive anymore. The one's that maybe your parents remember. The cartoon gags come off like inside jokes. Hidden meanings that you don't quite understand but feel like you should. You recognize W.C. Fields and the Marx Brothers. But that's about it. Characterizations of characters played on the big screen long ago. Bubble through the little TV set on top of a dresser. One of the drawers fronts long gone. So you can see the contents without opening it. It smells like old wet wood and the air is damp with the humidity of the storm poring outside the screen door.
He pulls out the last stitch and holds up the de-pocketed Tee. The holes from the thread left a reminder of why he hated the shirt in the first place. Why would anyone want a pocket T? V-neck pocket T is what your grandpa wore in the garden or cutting grass. What are you suppose to put in the pocket in the first place. It couldn't be anything heavy.
Maybe that's where you keep your handkerchief. Folded with a triangle sticking up. Classes up the T-shirt with a little flair. Regardless the reason, it wasn't enough for Lem to need it on there. So off it came.
He slipped his altered shirt back over his head and dropped the pic-n-rip on the floor.
Kicking back on his pillow he watched the end of the cartoon. The funnyman with the big hand dances his way from an old car and up a red carpet. Midway he stops and goes in to a little jig. The crowd screams and rolls in a rhythmic repeated pattern. Lem watches a girl in the background faint 3 times during the dance. He wonders why they had to do that and thinks about the Flintstones. How Fred will walk past 3 couches before he gets out the front door. Fred with his tie and tiger patterned knee length T-shirt.
My Feet Smell Like Mud
Lem didn't like the pocket on his black T-shirt. He stole the pic-n-rip from his mom's sewing kit and proceeded to remove it stitch by stitch. He sat on the edge of his bed. A black and white TV blaring some Warner Brothers cartoon. You know the kind with the celebrities that aren't alive anymore. The one's that maybe your parents remember. The cartoon gags come off like inside jokes. Hidden meanings that you don't quite understand but feel like you should. You recognize W.C. Fields and the Marx Brothers. But that's about it. Characterizations of characters played on the big screen long ago. Bubble through the little TV set on top of a dresser. One of the drawers fronts long gone. So you can see the contents without opening it. It smells like old wet wood and the air is damp with the humidity of the storm poring outside the screen door.
He pulls out the last stitch and holds up the de-pocketed Tee. The holes from the thread left a reminder of why he hated the shirt in the first place. Why would anyone want a pocket T? V-neck pocket T is what your grandpa wore in the garden or cutting grass. What are you suppose to put in the pocket in the first place. It couldn't be anything heavy.
Maybe that's where you keep your handkerchief. Folded with a triangle sticking up. Classes up the T-shirt with a little flair. Regardless the reason, it wasn't enough for Lem to need it on there. So off it came.
He slipped his altered shirt back over his head and dropped the pic-n-rip on the floor.
Kicking back on his pillow he watched the end of the cartoon. The funnyman with the big hand dances his way from an old car and up a red carpet. Midway he stops and goes in to a little jig. The crowd screams and rolls in a rhythmic repeated pattern. Lem watches a girl in the background faint 3 times during the dance. He wonders why they had to do that and thinks about the Flintstones. How Fred will walk past 3 couches before he gets out the front door. Fred with his tie and tiger patterned knee length T-shirt.
3.12.2004
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