I stood in the rain and sleet and watched Faf circle the yard as she does prior to shitting. It s become busy enough with dogs and people and traffic (both on the rails and on Main Street) that I ve given up pissing in the yard in full day light. I leave that now to the dogs and the bums who used to cross the yard at night until CSX patched up the fence with the federal stimulus dollars. Huge equipment appeared for a week or two after which the yard had beautiful pale blue lights at every switch which previously were not there and the fences were patched up. I imagine the industry got paid millions for that work. The patched fence work essentially forces the (quote)other side of the tracks(end quote) to cross over the rail bridge. The problem is that the bridge runs east-west and the thoroughfare runs north-south, a result of a poor design that prevents the poorer northern neighborhood from linking with the more affluent southern neighborhood (the neighborhood of the arts). Every time I look at it now I think about Warren Buffet buying up all of the rails and wonder if I m in the right industry (if you could call it that). Lord Byron had left for the morning to go teach a class and I was alone again and in a way really needing it even though I missed her. I live among many people whom I miss. I think in some way I even will miss the ones who I know could do better but for some reason allow themselves to trip into stupidity and general foul behavior, like Glassboy. It s no wonder why Chekhov saw the peasants as such flaming losers (literally) (+). The day prior Lord Byron and I got back to the studio after a righteous evening of cuddling and dog watching at a friends house only to find that Glassboy had decided to smoke another cigar indoors leaving the otherwise very healthy situation not so healthy and additionally stinky. Ahhh, the Bughouse, its like Dantes plane of hell where demons stick pitchforks in each others asses for eternity. I keep looking for the logic but there s none to be found, this conservative do whatever you feel as long as you ve got the biggest space shit fails. It results in lack of community, lack of respect and a waste of energy, to the point sometimes that I feel like all of the effort is ultimately an exercise in futility. (quote)There s no success like failure and failure is no success at all.(close quote) So I make some phone calls, send some emails and we re on to a new topic, cuddling. There are worse results. The poor girl had wanted to cuddle all day but instead helped out at the law firm assisting yet another conservative candidate get elected by waiving flags in the Irish day parade in the cold, wet, drizzle. As we lay down to sleep for another night Lord Byron asks from politeness, (quote)What were you going to write?(close quote) I was happy she asked because I want an opinion and some discussion on the matter. It, for my sake, is important stuff to discuss. (quote)well,(close quote) I said, (quote)its about the real story.(close quote) (quote)The one that I don t often hear told.(close quote) (quote)Like that FasTrac up the street we just stopped for gas at. That place is exactly what the opposition predicted it would be - a haven for unhealthy foods and convenience, full of loiterers, selling lottery tickets with a trash strewn surface lot where panhandlers can make a living.(close quote) I felt like Chekhov condemning the poor but worse, from a state of damnation my self. I realized how horrible it sounded but meant it, I wanted to show the character of it. Commerce above all else - no real community, just another place to serve the system and there I was watching it, judging it, purchasing my goods from its convenient location between home and the theater where I took Lord Byron that night on a date for a beer and a movie. (quote)You know,(end quote) I said to her as she nestled her head into my armpit. But she was asleep already, probably hadn t heard a thing I was saying as I strained to get focus on her eyes, now closed, as they were just inches from my face, her body weighing deep and heavy onto mine. Another time I thought and reached for the pad to at least jot down some of the notes - the face of the man buying pizza, the free night at the theater, the cigar smoking dipshit and the reality of getting along. Real well, until there are dues.
H35NYA3YAGEW
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