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OfflinePenguin
You can't be me I'm a Rockstar

Registered: 02/10/02
Posts: 1,830
Loc: On the Arctic ice shelf.
Last seen: 1 year, 9 months
Transient Wayfarings: The Journal of Catch
    #695449 - 06/23/02 02:57 AM (14 years, 8 months ago)

I gathered the clothes that lay strewn on the carpeted bedroom floor and mad dashed it thoughtlessly to the front; main-lining any personal hygiene problems that plauge my visage at the present can be fixed later. As I left, I locked the door behind me and lit a cigarette walking down the stairs for the car...
*********************************************************
Yesterday I helped an older woman carry a box to her appartment. She and I clusertfucked our own realities when I offered her some help carrying this box to her place. It was not that heavy; but it looked like it at first.
Understatement is one of the many weapons used by the elderly to target, especially the youth of today , someone in helping them. Decrepet in physical apperance and ability; Exceedingly sharp mentally...and as I brought this to her door she explained it was from California. I didn't right well care very much as the packaging peanuts doused the complex floor; trail-like. I helped her because I was late and needed her to move out of the way, but she thanked me and we parted.

As I decended the last set of stairs before the parking lot, the old woman's big, ominous black glasses from yesterday, the kind the that block out all visable light spectrums, reminded me that the sun had gone nova and I needed protection myself.
The Plymouth Acclaim was Dutch-oven warm as I felt the humid, stale air roll from the maroon cabin onto my feet; I puffed the cigarette and tossed it from the car plunking down in the captain's chair and started the engine.
The maroon clunk traced the roadway like many before it and hugged and humped every bump, quagmire and crevase that was awl-scratched into the black terrain. The pedal was placed to the floor as the engine ejaculated fuel into its heart to make Mayflower Hill on the north end of the city.
People and their furrier, better halves ran or walked either with the flow or opposite the traffic and the sun beat down warm upon it people and made peace as the trees gathered photosythesistic food. Birds clucked and tweeked and chirped; the am/fm radio sang an old Dylan song.
I lit another cigarette and puffed it with the left hand. Ashes gave up and became carcinogenic flakes that spit into the air of the automobile; I always missed the window because in all actuality I never use the ashtray that came standard on the 12 year old car. Made to much of a stink for the olfactory senses to handle;especialy on blistering days with people and thier dogs and thier kids and thier ways of enjoying this summer haze, these summer days.
My face felt greasy moist and the steering wheel, having been owned by some unknown, the steering wheel was a bit worn and dirty. Everywhere I touched on my face was growing a film of skank that permeated from that god-awful wheel. But, I sat back and enjoyed the wind in my face... I was out for coffee. Sometimes coffee is before anthing in the morning. Hygiene comes relativlely second.

*****************************************************************************

The elderly woman's place reminded that mine was dump. I didn't like staying there often. Sometimes I would sit there and make complentations. Wild thoughts of debochery; simple thoughts in prayer;a self-motivated and self-established religon in my world. But most of the time sitting at the table I would smoke countless cigarettes and make rude comments to the newscasters...

I have and always welcome old age. To grow wise through lessons. Calibrated insync with the hourglass and the sand. I will not be the most pleasent man when time catches me. I tend to be a burden because I know somewhere along the line a bullet missed me a while back and life has gone on longer than it had to. Tends to not be on my mind all the time though...the great crimson speck of a car pudded on.

************************************************************************************
The tires pulled into the convience store which was only 3.2 miles away. I know this exact milage because of many a night would come of yesteryear and the booze would be present and this dial would be come of some interest. Fading and flowing in and out to an aqua-glow. The lights of the store reminded of this ambience to come; now of floresence of opaque and stained yellow, to become a brighter color later...now for the catalyst.

The cashier was the usual come-of-the-mill type employee. Probably has a record. He nodded to me as I lanky strided over to the cooler. I had the direct and unappreciated feel on my neck that cashierman didn't look away after his nod. I had Gafferty's 'Baker Street' going through my head as I brought the frosted door to my self and grabbed seven six-packs. The eighth was making the process harder in ways as I left it to have the attendent pick it up after my departure.

The cans dudded togther I grabbed many uneedables from the shelves and asked the boy for a pack of Camel filters to finish my order. We parted, but no tbefore the mentioned to me that my lights were on; I told him it was a safety feature and tryed to hol composure on the level. Took the merchandise as 'Baker Street' ended in the foreground as the car started again...I opened a beer of some unknown variety and remembered that I too had a record. Just desperate folks like myself in the world of straight-necks and book-followers.

The road the convience store, luckily, was a back road so as in there would be limited contact with law enforcement officals. I never saw anything besides the strays of the surrounding homes and the forrest of trees that resided at their property. I blazed down the road bearing onto black road and the morning dusk; the sky of pink hue and off-oranges and beiges. The June air was very breezy and warm.My cigarette come unhinged from my fingers and off into the rushing wind.
*******************************************************************************************

I arrived at the parking lot in style. Meaning, after hitting the groove that was carved out of the earth near where the road and the lot started, and causing the auto to bounce up and away at a dangerous and sudden speed. My beer had shifted during the turn and laid to rest upon the accelerator. The car roared toward the other cars asleep in the lot. We both came to akward stops. I sat to adrime the near fatal miss of any of these fine autos...the Plymouth could take beating. So, I was sitting...

I know this early in the morning, someone was bound to be up and about in there swell, white modulified stakeouts. Now I was in some kind of relapse as I approached the door arms full and smoke making the eyes peel back dryly...what if I was to become siezed by the woman from down the hall, underneath all the insanity I opened the door.

Making headway through the second 'trust' door ( one that is only accessable by the tenents via key), I made my door in twleve gallops of the stairs. Three sets of them made the route possible for me to gain entry...I slithered between the door and placed the merchandise down on the closest available surface. Stole apartment thirteen's paper on my way up as well. They moved out two weeks ago and their name is gone off the box, but the paper keeps being brought anyway. Brought by some poor fellow who drives a red Corsica and who possibly did not get the message. Him and the circus that is his life, and the paper, and the whole scene for that matter, come and go within minutes. Around the hour of four. I am up to witness this.

The round table, in front of the gigantic slider window, I plopped down to swivel back and forth in vein attempts for cigarettes lodged within crevassesof my canvas coat. The wind was good on the legs; it blew and the roaucus from behind me that was the music, screeched and bellowed intense vibes from deep with the chords. The music was loud, but the apartment was soundproof.No one had any means to bother each other. We all worked; at this point the tunes became ever incresingly broader.

******************************************************************************************
I was gone. I needed to aparently get a hold of wandering thoughts and stay focused. If I was a cartoon I would have free-floating words trapped in a bubble. I feel androgoninous in many ways now. I felt like a change. I mean though as in not scenery, I was quite captured by the tilting horizon in front of me.

I get the sensation of change. It swells there for a moment, and then it ends by spidering out in the empty mindspace. I know that the time is close to six...tentering backwards to fields of grass; sitting there on the hill. Rememberance gather about places I have been and where it took place...the rolling grass knowels up on the hill, towards the left side of my abode and the complex altogether, reminded me deeply of summer days gathering at festivals and listening to the music. The experience.

******************************************************************************************





ambient_transient@hotmail.com




--------------------
The fear of loss is always greater than the desire for gain


Edited by Penguin (06/27/02 08:56 AM)


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Offlinefrogsheath
Stranger
Registered: 02/18/02
Posts: 915
Loc: Chicago, Illinois U.S.A.
Last seen: 1 year, 8 months
Re: Transient Wayfarings: Journal [Re: Penguin]
    #695531 - 06/23/02 03:56 AM (14 years, 8 months ago)

That's cool. It must be sticky in your neck of the woods too --it has been here and yet I'm reluctant to drag out the a/c. After reading your story I definitely won't! You make it sound almost glamorous to be uncomfortable. Spontaneity and comfort don't really mix. Fuck getting comfy indoors!!


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OfflinePenguin
You can't be me I'm a Rockstar

Registered: 02/10/02
Posts: 1,830
Loc: On the Arctic ice shelf.
Last seen: 1 year, 9 months
Re: Transient Wayfarings: Journal [Re: frogsheath]
    #695807 - 06/23/02 09:55 AM (14 years, 8 months ago)

Thanks for the input. Its a work in progress...new stuff to be added


--------------------
The fear of loss is always greater than the desire for gain


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Offlinefrogsheath
Stranger
Registered: 02/18/02
Posts: 915
Loc: Chicago, Illinois U.S.A.
Last seen: 1 year, 8 months
Re: Transient Wayfarings: Journal [Re: Penguin]
    #696153 - 06/23/02 01:05 PM (14 years, 8 months ago)

Oh by the way, you're an excellant writer. There's so much going on in that little snippet it's engaging. Very clear too. Keep writing. I was just responding in my 7:00 am sunday wake and bake mode. I followed your cue. I went right out (after a few false starts out the door) and had a kick-ass morning! Thanks.


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OfflinePenguin
You can't be me I'm a Rockstar

Registered: 02/10/02
Posts: 1,830
Loc: On the Arctic ice shelf.
Last seen: 1 year, 9 months
Re: Transient Wayfarings: Journal [Re: frogsheath]
    #697450 - 06/24/02 01:25 AM (14 years, 8 months ago)

this is being constantly edited and added to. keep coming back.
Asteriks seperate new additons


--------------------
The fear of loss is always greater than the desire for gain


Edited by Penguin (06/24/02 03:56 AM)


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Anonymous

Re: Transient Wayfarings: Journal [Re: Penguin]
    #698214 - 06/24/02 01:11 PM (14 years, 8 months ago)

Hey--- Great freakin story!!! I have been to that store!!! Damn I was the guy behind the counter!!! I am immortal now!!! peace!


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OfflinePenguin
You can't be me I'm a Rockstar

Registered: 02/10/02
Posts: 1,830
Loc: On the Arctic ice shelf.
Last seen: 1 year, 9 months
Re: Transient Wayfarings: Journal [Re: ]
    #698680 - 06/24/02 06:11 PM (14 years, 8 months ago)

Wakka wakka wakka, I believe that was what you told me as I left. I went in silence gripping my beer; exiting backwards through the door...


--------------------
The fear of loss is always greater than the desire for gain


Edited by Penguin (06/25/02 12:44 AM)


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OfflinePenguin
You can't be me I'm a Rockstar

Registered: 02/10/02
Posts: 1,830
Loc: On the Arctic ice shelf.
Last seen: 1 year, 9 months
Re: Transient Wayfarings: The Journal of Catch [Re: Penguin]
    #704796 - 06/27/02 08:57 AM (14 years, 8 months ago)

PGF material coming soon
Redunancy sold seperate.


--------------------
The fear of loss is always greater than the desire for gain


Edited by Penguin (06/27/02 08:58 AM)


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General Interest >> Philosophy, Sociology & Psychology

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