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Tuesday, July 15, 2008
How to explain? Occasionally the fog clears and I am able to view things that are instantly comprehensible to others. Such as: it makes plain good sense to go where you're wanted, no? Occasionally the brain gears get oiled and the doors swing smoothly open, allowing me to gain good sense from a source I'd usually ignore by instinct. In this case, a bit of the New Testament--usually a collection of writings that has me deeply suspicious. But this made sense: a garden choked with weeds cannot grow. Here I stop to take count of the many parabled thistles around me. It doesn't matter whether I planted them or not. Out they go.
The New Chum: Dark Creek ConBrio
Brio: Welsh Cob/Gypsy Vanner cross, 10 days old. Jane: Irish/Scottish/English olio, 16,448 days old.
(Photo swiped from pal Nikki, and posted without asking permission. BAD FRIEND JANE.)
Thursday, July 10, 2008
We have changed. Last night I was in my favourite Starborgs, enjoying an iced espresso prior to lawn bowling with McDoom. I'm also doing a NY Times crossword as quickly as I can, i.e., slo-o-o-ow-w-w-wly, and suddenly notice a man walking up to my table. He's somewhere in his 30s or early 40s, clad in denims, and right away I know he's (a) transient, and (b) panhandling. "Excuse me, ma'am," he begins, "but would you be able to spare a bit of change so's I can buy a cup of coffee?" My wallet is on the table, and I casually yet deliberately place my hand on it. Then there's a call out from one of the baristas: "Don't give him any money, please! I'm calling the cops right now." Transient Man tries another tack: "Could you spare enough to maybe buy a guy a bag of chips?" The barista again says, "No, don't. He's been in here twice before today." No problem, I had already decided that this was not a person in need, but a drug-seeking nuisance. I look Transient Man in the eye. I say, "I can't do it, man--" "Oh, RIGHT!" he yells. "You gotta listen to HER, don'tcha', ya fuckin' bitch!" He slams out of the café. Both the baristas start apologizing to me, which I don't allow. It's certainly not their fault.
Proof of how we have changed: This was the kind of thing that used to be able to ruin a whole day for me, since I'd brood and stew and replay the scene incessantly in my head. Now, with a little community work under my belt, I know that this guy's rage had nothing to do with me. And while I am all for giving to those in need, panhandling at a Starborgs (he'd also tried working the drive-through lane), is just stupid.
Thursday, July 03, 2008
Road trip! The first in the Mazdad. CDs? Check. Dog kibble? Check. Sanity? Nope, can't find it. In other words, conditions are ideal.