"Everything is more enjoyable with cigarettes. Drinking coffee... Reading... Eating..." "Video games are a great way out when you feel like shit." "...a good way to ignore things." ...had found a job working on computers at one of Colorado's largest service organizations for the homeless... ...his girlfriend...fears government scrutiny for her Maoist leanings... ...life as a Maoist-Third Worldist still shadows the house... - Westword, 4/24-30/2014
...the Boomer mindset is past the idea of merely saving money to live on. There is a wealth of resources available to explore various locations and lifestyle communities, types of home styles, various travel and entertainment opportunities... Most surveyed (69%) expect to update this next home, with the most important factors being low maintenance and "smart" conveniences. ...other demographic groups will include..."Boomerang Buyers" (those who have been through a foreclosure/short sale and have been repairing their credit... ...to make Downtown Denver "a diverse city"...including families, seniors, students, and employees. ...explore how the aesthetics of each neighborhood vary...with in depth descriptions of what makes each unique. - Denver News, 4/10 - 5/10/2014
In the meantime, most people will not have developed this emerging ability for clairvoyance... - Lilipoh, Winter 2014
Here it is: your springtime beer breakdown. Do you go with a hoppy red when you're pretending the weather is nice...? 80 IBUs isn't too much of a kick to the tongue, but at 8.2% ABV, you might want to sip and savor...stories about that one co-worker who smells like hummus. ...a Belgian-style tripel...means it's got higher ABV... Yeah, you've got the clove and the banana bread kickin' in fire seconds after the first sip... - Out Front, 4/16/2014
Another Saturday. Bus stop across the street from where I live. 5 am. A woman who I have never seen before is here. She's in heels, smoking and strutting around. I hear sirens some blocks away. A police car comes racing up the boulevard, lights and sirens on. It turns down my street. A police SUV comes from the same direction. Someone at the intersection pulls out on the green light, and the police car must wait for them to turn. A second police car races up the boulevard. Either a second SUV or the same one comes up and also turns down my street.
Sunday, I decided to attend this year's Starfest. After spending the first part of the afternoon wandering the Marriott hotel with a varied collection of imperial alien warriors, and before spending the latter part wandering a big downtown park with bald young guys with their torsos covered in tattoos, I stopped off at a downtown chain sandwich place. I had the idea to "grab" something to drink before I found myself in a line before one employee both taking all the orders, making them, and ringing them up. At one table is a guy in camouflaged pants and with a suitcase on rollers. He's shooting the breeze with someone about hustling on the street. He tries to get as close to the counter as he can, to say goodbye to the single employee behind the counter. As he does, I notice what appears to be a deep gouge on each side of his face, just above the jaw, as if the are long holes in his face. He departs as a kid comes in off the street. The kid asks if he can have a free cup of water, and is told that he will have to pay for the cup. He replies, "Aw, that should be illegal. Water should be free." When he departs, a lanky middle-aged guy with long grey hair brings in a water bottle and fills it up at the soda fountain with water. he drinks that, says "Ahhh," and fills it up again before he leaves.
Monday. 5 am. Usual bus stop. At the medical marijuana place across the street, there is the tiniest sign posted on a door. It is a notice of tax seizure. According to local TV news, the owners were laundering money for a couple of guys from Columbia. Across the front of the business has been a big banner which reads, "closed for remodelling, open soon." This is after what the local TV news called a SWAT team showed up to take away a couple of safes.
The conception of race is recent... ...prejudice...rested...often on religion. ...the lexicon of human groups is poor. It would be necessary for the family, the gang or the neighborhood to sanction tolerance before...an individual could practice it. ...whole...communities, whole housing projects, whole factories or school systems have been made the target of change. By involving the leaders, the policies, the rank and file, new norms are created and...individual attitudes tend to conform to the new group norm. Let the reader ask himself whether his own social attitudes do in fact conform closely to those of...church associates. - The Nature of Prejudice, by G. W. Allport, 1954
I am waiting for the bus home to start up before I get on. I see a young guy who appears to be headed for the train. He asks someone next to be before he asks me if I have a lighter. I tell him that I don't smoke. He stares at me for a second before heading for the train platform. Moments later, I spot him walking out of the train station toward the boulevard. On the bus is a young guy playing rap through a speaker while he is on his phone. "Hey. What up. Tell Isaah he better have my money by tonight. Him and that other fool. What? What story? He blew it at Sam's? He blew my money at Sam's? Tell him he better have my money by tonight. Or I'm gonna fuck him up."
The traveller "against the background of his own culture" perceives, interprets, and reports what strikes him as noteworthy in the land he has visited. The observer...may be a...gullible person, given to "imagining things." ...the reports are...not necessarily typical of...where he visited. What strikes him as an important trait may strike others as minor or nonexistent. - Allport
It's the middle of a busy week, of a busy Spring. I am working an extra closing shift at a slow store. The back door is open to a grey sky over a lazy quiet late afternoon. A breeze is blowing tall thin trees and a hawk is turning lazy circles above expensive homes. I don;t remember the last time I sat down to relax. I can hear traffic just beyond the houses. After work, I am on a bus home around 8 pm. A couple of guys get on. One is advising the other about his finances. The other says, "I have restitution, classes, and I need cigarettes." They discuss when his parole begins. Another guy in the back is telling someone, "The county politics out here are worse than the prisons."
The minority groups may develop special solidarity... ...deride their persecutors, celebrate their own heroes and holidays...
"Directed and Autistic Thinking"
Thinking is basically an endeavor to anticipate reality. By thinking we try to foresee...and...bring our hopes and dreams to pass. There is nothing passive about thinking. ...we speak of "reasoning." - Allport
It's the beginning of another week. At 5 am, it's snowing. At the bus stop across the street from where I live, I sit down next to the woman who is Mongolian...or Nepalese. She is eating crackers as we wait for the bus. I get on a connecting bus up the street. A passenger rings the bell. The driver is a new one, and she misses his stop. He tells her that's okay. When he gets off, I see that he is wearing a plastic bag under his cap for the snow. From the bus, I take a train. In a seat in front of me is a middle-aged guy in paint-covered overalls. He is slowly combing his shoulder-length blonde hair.
I am in Kiev. ...a half-mile stretch of Khreshchatyk, the main thoroughfare of Kiev's downtown...has been transformed by protesters from an eight-lane highway into a pedestrian mall. ...Maiden, as it came to be called... The protesters...occupied...a McDonald's...turned into a psychological...trauma clinic. ...Maiden was beautiful. There was an openness to the political life of the country...a desire to communicate that was rare anywhere...especially...in the cynical, impoverished post-Soviet space. ...an example of the power of the automobile in post-Soviet life: not everyone has one, and those who do form a new class, the mobile, automotive class, and when that class turns against the government it can be very powerful... Years before, I had visited Donetsk... Iy was a flat, cold, utilitarian city that I saw mostly from the window of my friend's Range Rover. There was just enough stuff in Donetsk to support human life -...soccer stadium, a thirty-foot statue of Lenin, some shopping malls, an airport - and not much more.
I didn't know what to think of all this: sixty young men standing in the sun that finally flooded the square - devoted, passionate, and in some fundamental way misled. If the Russians came, many of them would fight, and they would die. And if the Russians did not come they might die anyway, fighting against their own government. - "The New Yorker", 5/12/2014
...some December, along the Avenue de France, the Red Cross has operated an on-demand, white-gloved sanitation service that within an hour of being called, will show up to collect human bodies, whether chopped up of left intact. - New Republic, 5/12/2014
I'm on a bus which has arrived back in my neighborhood. Before my stop, we pass an apartment complex. A police car with its lights on is parked in front. A grade school kid comes out of his door and runs up to a "No Parking" sign next to the police car. As if in response to an officer's question, "Where's the trouble," the kid looks at the sky and points straight up. The following morning is another Saturday at 5 am. I am at the bus stop across the street from where I live, along with the Mongolian couple. The woman is squatting on the ground. On this morning, the man gets on the bus as well as the woman.
Bubba
We get up the street and I head over to the deathburger. At a table is a grey-haired guy dressed head to toe in black, and with his eyes closed. He has ear buds in, which are plugged into a laptop. Both the laptop and something else are plugged into an extension cord, which is plugged into an outlet in the ceiling. On the floor are a couple of roll-away bags with handles. It's a scene which I decide that I must capture from outside the window. A small truck pulls up and parks as I am framing my shot. A guy gets out and we both go inside. The guy has on work boots with the leather laces untied. There are now four white guys in the lobby. We are dressed very much the same. Three of us have jeans and some kind of sweatshirt. Perhaps the most striking difference is that the guy from the small truck is over six feet, and he greets another guy inside who is his height, who says to him, "What's up Bubba." The two appear to know each other. The back of Bubba's hoodie has an emblem for what appears to be a mechanic unit in the armed forces. I hear him tell his friend that he watched me "snapping pictures of that dude," referring to the guy with the laptop, and tell his friend how tired he is. Their discussion turns to what I suspect is employment. Bubba's friend is talking about "This is a big state. I mean, it's big." Bubba and I glance at each other on his way out with his friend. The "dude" sits in silence.
Men are visiting spas more than ever, according to recent research from the International Spa Association (ISPA) Foundation. ...the average male spa-goer is between 25 and 44 years old, earns over $50,000 and works at a management level or above. ...he is likely to have more work responsibility... ...said they were interested in trying or learning more about hydrotherapy (51%), acupuncture (47%), mind.body experiences (47%), and aromatherapy (45%). - Energy Times, April 2014
They divvy up six-packs or pass around bottles of whisky or wine...the laughter turns into drunken arguments and fights, peeing and puking. ...two brothers, possibly twins, homeless in Denver for more than a decade, start swinging wildly at each other. ...veterans of the streets passed out beside their shopping carts, oblivious to the wreckage around them - Wsetword, 5/15-21/2014
It's Tuesday. 5 am. I am crossing the street with the couple from Mongolia or Tibet. I notice that they did not press the crosswalk button to get the white figure. All we have on the green light is the red hand. Perhaps the hand is a positive Buddhist sign. The couple speaks to each other in a language which may be native to one of the two countries which I have guessed. The wife's cell phone rings, and I hear her answer with "Hello." When the bus comes, we pass a billboard. It's the first ad for a marijuana product which I have seen on a billboard. It's next to a billboard for a grocery store. The following day after work, I am waiting for the bus home at a train station. A couple of middle-aged guys come by. Each has a shovel and a broom, and an orange vest. One suspects that they just missed a bus. When one pulls up seconds later, he tells the other, "Get this one, get this one here." When they both get on the bus, he drops his broom on the floor of the bus. He leaves it there until he finds his bus fare. Both in seats now, he tells his friend that he believes that they did not loose any time. His friend agrees. He laughs, and his friend laughs at the way he laughs. The next morning, I am at my usual bus stop. A young guy carrying a hard hat and with tattoos on his neck arrives with a young woman to catch the bus. He mentions the medical marijuana place across the street, telling her that the owners were "doing business with the cartel. I swear." She mentions her "baby-daddy." He tells her instead to refer to him as "your man. You're disrespecting your man." He lays out his street smarts to her, referring to this street corner. "Everything to the west is the west side. Everything to the south is the south side. You're on the south side." I move to the other end of the bus stop, and I sit on the ground. A guy on the bench, who I've seen once before, asks me, "Hey, you want to sit down man?" He is eating from a package of sunflower seeds called Spitz.
After work, I wait for a train at a station next to a community college. The entire week has been one of rain, hail, lightning, and tornadoes. I put some popcorn down for a squirrel. There is a young woman next to me who speaks slowly, and as if she stepped off the streets in the 1970s. "That squirrel is probably like...gonna call his friends. Like...'Hey...it's pop...corn city over here. Hey, with light...ning and bad weather all over the place you gotta lighten the mood." She thinks that the squirrel is a frequent visitor to someone in the neighborhood who feeds it. My mood is lighter already. The day after turns into a 12-hour shift. I wait for the bus across the street from where I spent the last four. Along comes a middle-aged little guy. He's in a white T-shirt over an undershirt, and jeans. He appears to be from some other decade. He certainly does not appear to be from this office park area full of expensive new trucks driven my manicured Caucasian guys his age. He wants to know how far the next train station to the west is. I tell him, many city blocks. He claims that he was told (no doubt by someone pulling his chain) that all he had to do was walk a short distance that way, where he would happen upon a trail leading him to the train station. This poor guy can't possibly have the first clue where he is. What he's doing out here is for someone above my pay grade to determine. I convince him to head my direction, to a much closer train station.
On Memorial Day, I notice a posting on Facebook. There is a page for my neighborhood association. The page mentions a building being renovated across the street from where I live. A letter was written to the developer about the lax way in which the work is being done and how the site is (or isn't) being maintained. There was a meeting between residents and the developer. Someone representing the developer requested, at the meeting, that the residents change the letter to refrain from commenting on how the developer does anything. This representative also chose to criticize the property of one resident. It's the day after Memorial Day. 5 am. Outside the deathburger is a big drunk guy. He has just places either a hoodie or a light jacket on top of a trash can next to the building. He walks out into the parking lot. He stops and stares into the dark, before continuing on to the dumpster at the end of the lot. At the bus stop are a collection of construction guys. It sounds as if one is telling the other about his weekend. "...smokin' weed, drinkin', stealin' cars."
All of us are routinely trying to build up a world-picture that is orderly, manageable, and reasonably simple. Outer reality is in itself chaotic - full...of too many potential meanings. We have to "simplify" in order to live. We need stability in our perceptions...we have an insatiable hunger for "explanations." No culture ends up by saying, "We don't know the answer." There are myths of creation, legends of the origin of the people. At the end of the road there is some guiding religion adequate to all perplexities. It is the "monopolists" who cause inflation. It is "communists" who are responsible for fires, explosions, or flying saucers. ...what could be more logical than to attack the persons who are causing them? ...the category is undifferentiated. It includes books, movies, preachers, teachers who offer...uncongenial thoughts. ...evil befalls - perhaps forest fires or rocket explosion...
Things are perceived as either inside or outside a moral order. Big city life...is inhuman, impersonal, dangerous. We fear and hide our subservience to it. ...we yield to the materialistic urban values, we hate the city that engenders them. We dislike those...on the fringe of old-fashioned values. There are only two types of antagonisms available to people...alike in color, religion, language, styles of clothing, and standards of living. Xenophobia and witchcraft.. "Anomea" is the accelerated disruption of social structure and of social values such as mark most nations today. It calls attention to dysfunction and demoralization in social institutions. - Allport
It's Friday. After two days working 12-hour shifts, I am on a train some 45 minutes earlier than I usually am in the morning. I'm with passengers who I usually am not with and wouldn't know. A middle-aged woman is smoking on the platform. A guy comes up with a ten-speed bike. She teases him, "It's about time you got here early." It's not yet 5 am. He teases her back, "Fuck you." When I get home from work, I step off the bus back in my own neighborhood. At his new favorite corner is a panhandler from down the street. He has a trademark hat which appears to be something which he may have worn at Woodstock. I usually see him sitting in a bus shelter, smiling and acting as if he is dolling out cowboy wisdom to whoever happens to sit next to him. This afternoon's rain squall is dumping, and his hat is nowhere to be seen. Soaked from head to foot, his head is inside someone's car stopped at the light. He is getting a light for a cigarette in his mouth. Cigarette now sheltered under his cardboard sign, he comes inside the bus shelter to sit down next to a trio of young who appear Arab. With a gravel voice like a circular saw, he begins to give them his wisdom. :Let me tel you, I'm 64. I've seen it all. Take a motherfuckin'..." Before he can finish, the first of several trucks and cars comes by, splashing a wave of water at least ten feet from the curb. The guy yells, "I hope it screws up your engine."
Saturday is the last day of the month. 5 am. There are four drunks in the bus stop across the street from where I live. Up the street, at my usual stop, there are a couple of people on the concrete asleep in the shelter, covered in blankets. Parked in the shelter with them is a grocery cart, which they all refer to as a "buggy," full of crap. One is much shorter than the other. The short one keeps raising their legs up into the air. It's been a couple of weeks since I've seen Mr. Footlong Goatee. He's at the deathburger this morning, digging a cup out of the trash to get a soda. Power to the people Footlong!
