Letters from Home

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Postby sunny » Wed Oct 29, 2008 8:06 pm

This is a lovely thread. Thanks for starting in c2w.

Here are a few random thoughts on my neighborhood and the goings on.

When I look out my front window I almost always see children laughing and playing. The other day a little fellow got his four wheeler caught in the rain gutter and he was so serious about the mechanics of getting himself out of his predicament I had to laugh. It makes me happy to see children being themselves.

The neighborhood is what is commonly referred to as "leafy" and it's mostly still green but the dogwoods have turned. The smell of chalkboards and pencil shavings are strong in my memory. There are scarecrows sitting in lawnchairs here and there and the occasional jack-o-lantern. I have an autumn wreath on my front door something like this one:

Image

My neighborhood is solidly working class and we are outside more often than upper middle class folks seem to be. I sit on the front porch and someone is always out and about, walking dogs, doing yard work, sitting on the porch, or just-walking and talking. The music I hear wafting about is usually rap but the lady on the other end of the cul-de-sac plays gospel while she tends to her geraniums. Mahalia Jackson, usually. Hubby plays classical rock when he works on cars.

Political yard signs have only popped up in the last couple of weeks. When you first drive into the neighborhood there is a house with a rebel flag flying and 12, yes 12, McCain/Palin signs all lined up like good little soldiers. The mostly African American neighbors walk on by, unconcerned.

There are woods behind my house and young people regularly get busted there for smoking pot and, well, loitering I guess, as young people always do when they have nothing else to do.

It finally got cold here yesterday and the air is crisp and clean and I feel renewed energy. For what, I do not know. I putter around looking for something. I feel bottled up. Restless. Static. As if I might buzz away into a million pieces if I don't find the thing I don't know I am looking for. For now, I'll just be grateful I am alive and I feel good and that there are people who love me and there are children laughing and playing.
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Postby compared2what? » Mon Apr 06, 2009 2:25 pm

OM[G-d]!

I just remembered that it is, once again, time for the only holiday song I've ever heard that exactly evokes the spirit of the festive celebration that I personally am anticipating!


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Postby beeline » Mon Apr 06, 2009 4:49 pm

'Cuda, I have an almost identical flaming-shot-of-grain-alcohol story.

I have had many brushes with near-catastrophe and fire. There is the Setting My Couch on Fire on Christmas Eve story, the Burnt The Shit Out Of My Thumb With A Model Rocket story, and way too many regular old Dumb Things With Fireworks stories to count.

Today's tale happened outside of work, as I was waiting for my sandwich at the hot dog stand:



Homeless Man: Homeless and hungry...please help...

Bus Driver [to Hot Dog Stand Proprietor]: Here man, here's a dollar, get this guy a hot dog.

HM: I don't want a hot dog! I'm sick. I've got AIDS. I want soup!

HDSP: We don't have any soup. Want a pretzel?

HM: I want soup!

Me: Well, you're shit outta luck then, buddy.

BD: Shit. Can you believe this guy?

HM [muttering]: Assholes...

Me: Yes. I don't give them money. It only goes to drugs.

BD: Homeless and hungry, and I offer to buy him a hot dog!

Me: I believe the saying goes, "Beggars can't be choosers."

BD: Shit. Soup.

HDSP: Fucking bums.

Me: How do you think he got the AIDS? Dirty needle in his arm. I have no sympathy.

BD: Soup!
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Postby OP ED » Wed Apr 08, 2009 10:11 pm

compared2what? wrote:OM[G-d]!


sorry, but i'm totally going to have to steal that.

...

sunny, when i hear of a neighborhood being described as "leafy" i think of something entirely unrelated to fall festivities.
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Re: Letters from Home

Postby brainpanhandler » Mon Aug 16, 2010 8:18 pm

It was an absolutely beautiful day where I am today. I went for a walk and found myself in the middle of a large open field of grass. There was a stiff, blustery breeze blowing. I just stood there facing the wind with my eyes closed soaking in the bright, warm sunshine, feeling the wind buffet me around and riffle through my hair and I opened my eyes and turned around and hovering there before me was a monarch butterfly, not more than a couple of feet in front of me. I realized as the butterfly rocked and flitted back and forth in front of me that it was using me as a wind break as it tried to make progress across the field and against a stout 20 mph breeze to some destination that must have been worth all the effort. I tried to spread myself out so as to block the wind better. Occasionally the butterfly would get caught in one of violent, invisible sworls and eddies of air that were coursing around my form and would seem on the verge of being ripped away from me but I found that if I shifted my position I was able to stabilize it's flight and it would again enter the softer calmer air directly in front of me. We performed this dance for awhile and then eventually we parted ways. I watched as this tiny, fragile creature preposterously and against any normal sense of aerodynamic possibility tacked it's way in sailboat fashion across the field and directly into the wind bending the tall grass over to near horizontal.
"Nothing in all the world is more dangerous than sincere ignorance and conscientious stupidity." - Martin Luther King Jr.
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Re: Letters from Home

Postby Allegro » Mon Aug 16, 2010 10:37 pm

brainpanhandler wrote:… Occasionally the butterfly would get caught in one of violent, invisible sworls and eddies of air that were coursing around my form and would seem on the verge of being ripped away from me but I found that if I shifted my position I was able to stabilize it's flight and it would again enter the softer calmer air directly in front of me. …

      made
      my
      day :!:
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Re: Letters from Home

Postby brainpanhandler » Wed Oct 05, 2011 8:50 pm

I was walking along when I spotted what appeared to be an exotic grapefruit size fungus of some sort. I had to climb through a gully on the side of the path to get to it and then scramble up the other side of the gully to get a closer look. I got right up to it and poked it... and then a moment later the form finally coalesced in my brain as what it was, the very rare teddy bear fungus.


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Re: Letters from Home

Postby brainpanhandler » Sun Oct 14, 2012 1:16 pm

Reading this:


from here:
viewtopic.php?f=8&t=12856&start=60&p=480660&view=show#p480660


while simultaneously trying to block out the sound of A Prarie Home Companion coming from the kitchen. I opened the window hoping the steady rain outside might mask the sound. Slightly better. Contemplating a shower. A nice long hot shower. And maybe a bloody mary.
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Re: Letters from Home

Postby Elvis » Sat Nov 03, 2012 3:28 pm

brainpanhandler wrote:trying to block out the sound of A Prarie Home Companion


For some reason, I cannot stand Garrison Keillor. When APHC comes on with that piano intro, it's a race to the radio to change the station before his highly annoying (not to mention crappy singing) voice comes in.

It was Christmas Eve, I was walking up Fifth Avenue in Seattle, when I spotted Garrison Keillor exiting Saks Fifth Avenue (when there was a Saks in Seattle). He was wearing that stupid bowtie and had a crapload of packages which he set on the sidewalk and stood there, adjusting his coat collar and studying the passersby.

He was waiting for someone to recognize him.

No one did, apparently, except me.

I thought, "this is my ONE CHANCE to ruin Garrison Keillor's Christmas."

Wisely, I suppose, I just marched past and.threw him a moue of contempt.
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