The dog-friendly patio features...stellar people-watching... ...a trellis with hops growing on it... Customers can order...beer - say, the refreshing Watermelon Kolsch. ..."I don't think we skip a beat from inside to outside, which is something that places can have trouble with." ...stools made out of old kegs...along with a couple of fire bars that give off a gas flame and some ambiance. ...out on the expansive patio, gazing into the flames... ..."an easy drinking patio beer..." ...during the work week, when a one-hour lunch on the patio turns into a two-hour "business meeting" that quickly evolves into a situation in which you text the boss that you'll be spending the rest of the afternoon "working from home." - Westword, 7/3-9/2014
The CU study...said legal medical marijuana resulted in a...five-percent drop in beer sales. - Aurora Sentinel, 7/10 - 7/16/2014
Just as you can make choices about your clothing... It's time to drop the old rationalizations and discover a new YOU - stronger, confident, wiser... Foster a vision of your happiest, most amazing life. ...find positive resources and new, inspiring connections. Whether being happier means moving to the ocean...learning a foreign language...you are answering the call of source... - Natural Awakenings, 5/2014
...melt the fat and fill the brass cups and set and spark the wicks of 100 tea lights... ...she'd been brewing rice beer to give to the family of an uncle...who'd just died... Taranga sits at 13,200 feet on the road to Nangpa Laithe 19,000 foot pass into Tibet that's been used by traders and refugees since the 1500s. "When you're burning bodies... You have to...puncture the stomach, or else you just get a glowing bubble in the fire." ...the spirit undergoes "bardo"... ...the soul gradually moves away from the body and toward...one of the realms inhabited by gods, demigods, humans, animals, hungry ghosts, and devils. - Outside Magazine, August 2014
...in early 1967 Walt Rostow...confronted...Daniel Ellsberg, just back from a year and a half in Vietnam, and began to expand his theories. We had to get away from our...distaste for military regimes, Rostow said. The military was the hope of the underdeveloped world, well-educated, idealistic young officers taking over the nationalism... - Halberstam
July 1st. I just manage to catch my bus up the street. I get off and follow a mom and son over to the deathburger. She is wearing pink hot pants and matching pink Nikes. Her son has a cigarette behind one ear and, ties to his backpack, is what I assume is her hot pink drawstring bag. It's crammed full of makeup, and even a pair of zebra-striped sandals. Mom has the right side of her face covered in a tattoo. We go in the deathburger. She complains to her son about the service. She asks the young guy behind the counter if he's the manager. He replies, "Not yet."
Supposedly eight patrol teams consisting of one police officer and one firefighter are to be patrolling in the neighborhoods between June 27th and July 5th.
Is that 8 patrol teams for the entire city?
I would assume.
Never see any of the neighbors anymore. Everyone is holed up.
...the cars and music they play, gunshots, yelling... - Nextdoor Westwood, 7/1/2014
One of the biggest challenges - and most rewarding experiences - of working in city government is developing ways to engage Denver residents... ...the P.S. You Are Here creative place-making grant program that brings artists and neighborhoods together... ...building careers and businesses by nurturing local talent, and fueling our economic engine...will require sustained collective effort...to remain relevant...as the city responds to...unforeseen challenges. - Washington Park Profile, 7/2014
The next day I am on a bus home from work, with a woman on her phone. In a gravel voice, she says, "He's got the DTs? Well tell him to hold my hand. Ha ha..." The next morning, I wait for a ride to work at a street corner. It's 3 AM. In the distance, I hear a car alarm. I watch as a tow truck pulls a car up the street, alarm going and head and tail lights flashing. When I mention it to someone at work, they explain that its a reposession. An ambulance and paramedic van whipped around the corner of my street. They pull up to the light where I sit. A couple of police cars turn down the way from where the paramedics. A small car full of teenagers pulls up, runs the red light. A tractor trailer rolls through. A woman pulls up and offers me a dollar. When I turn her down, she offers a cigarette.
Which Way Is Downtown?
The day after the 4th, I am back at the deathburger. From inside, I can see a regular space cadet, a white-haired guy who enjoys discussing the economy, AM radio talk shows about economics, and Jesus. He's pointing down the street and talking to what appear to be a couple of older teenagers. I leave as they come inside. At the bus stop, I watch one of the teens come walking up the street. I do a double take when I realize that this guy, dressed as a teenager in shorts, a sports jersey, and something around his head, is actually in his 50s or 60s. "Hey, does this bus go downtown?" he asks. I suggest that he take a northbound bus, from which he will shortly see downtown right in front of him, and he can jump on a train which goes right there. I tell him twice that my bus goes crosstown. "He told me this bus goes downtown." Oh, he as in the space cadet. I tell him that the northbound bus will connect with the train. He's a tall, thin guy. He gets frustrated. "Which way is downtown man?" Where it's always been, north of this stop. "Ain't no north. It's either this way," he points west, "or this way," he points east. I watch as he walks of toward the west. He stops at the next bus stop before this one. When the bus comes, he does not get on.
Four police cars go racing up the boulevard, lights flashing. They are going north, toward...downtown. The second teenager comes up the sidewalk. He appears as if he could actually be a teenager. Same question. "Does this bus go downtown?" First he asks another guy, who echoes my advice. The he asks me. I tell him that both this bus and the northbound one each go to train stations, from where he can zip right to downtown. He wants to know which train station this bus goes to, and I tell him. "Man, I'm just out here. Fuck." When the bus comes, he gets on, sits with someone he comes to trust, and gets off at the train station. He's miles ahead of his senior cumpanero, who has miles to go before he sleeps anyplace. Until construction is complete on the condos next to the train station, I must walk from the train station to the corner to get a bus to work on time on Saturdays. This morning, a guy sits on the bench at the stop. He's wearing a denim jacket with an image of Fat Albert on the back. He asks me the time. I direct his attention to a big time and temperature sign on the side of a nearby building. A few minutes later, he asks me if the bus runs today.
A few minutes later, it pulls up. This is the third Saturday in a row when the same instructor is training a new driver. We head off, and the trainee's water bottle falls on the floor. "Gotta secure it man," sez the instructor. It falls on the floor a second time as we pull into the train station. "It's been bouncing around because of all those curbs and sidewalks you've been driving over." The trainee steps outside to smoke. "You've only got a couple of minutes," the instructor sez. "I'm only gonna take a couple of puffs." The trainee talks about driving for a meat company when he was in his 20s. He mentions his driver school. "It's hard to cram everything into four weeks. Everyone in our class passed, except for Bill." "They're going to have to recycle him?" asks the instructor. "Yeah. He can drive the bus okay. But the testing..." "They're supposed to give you a day on every piece of equipment," the instructor tell him. "Instructors don't like to go out on 5,000s because they can't sit down on them. They have to stand all day."
...one of the hottest zip codes in Denver. ...just keeps growing and growing...right in the middle of the action. It's so clean, the people are nice... The view from the forth-floor deck is stunning... - Mile High Sports, July 2014
We all want the same thing...for the West to retain its openness...some type of freedom we can't find elsewhere. We can't fight each other over that. - Elevation Outdoors, July/August 2014
Monday. The July 4th "weekend" is over. I'm working an earlier shift than usual, and I'm on an earlier bus. I'm listening to a couple of guys talking. One sez to the other, "See my ink?" (His tattoo.) "It's comin' along. I'm waiting for my cousin to get out." (Of jail.) "I want him to do my whole back." After work, I'm on a bus home, sitting behind a couple of women wearing hajib. One of them has a phone, over which I can hear a voice mail. One of them turns around to me and says, "Please, off?" She could not be asking a less informed person to assist her in hanging up her phone. I notice that she is blind in her left eye. After pressing every button on the phone, the message has been successfully saved to the voice mail.
Tuesday. On my regular schedule, which I won't see for at least another week, I ride a bus a short distance up the street. It comes around 5 AM. Sometimes, in a seat, is a twenty-something woman. Always dressed in black. In the early morning, she puts her makeup on carefully staring into a tiny mirror. All I know is that she continues north up the boulevard. I once heard her tell the driver that she's a student. This afternoon, I'm on an unusually early crosstown bus home. In a seat, there she is. In a cocktail dress and high heeled shoes, both black of course. She's polishing off a yogurt. Before we pull out of the train station, she gets up and off the bus to toss her trash. Down the street, she gets off among the trees and small houses. Living with parents?
First mile, last mile. ...getting increasingly frustrated...getting from Point "A" to Point "B" in the Mile High City. ...we need to make it far easier for people to get from their starting point to the train (first mile) and then from the train to their final destination (last mile). And vice versa. ..."if they come, we will build it." Or..."if they come to us clamoring on bended knee, we might build it if we can find the money." "Now we're in a time where transit alternatives are critical. ...to describe their favorite place... A developer or an activist will describe similar places - pedestrian friendly, often mixed use. Places where you're comfortable and support neighborhood character." - Washington Park Profile, 7/2014
It's 3 AM, or 3:15, or 3:30. I've grabbed a shower, I'm out the door, and I am sitting on a corner down the street. I am waiting for a ride which will be here in a few minutes. Though there is the occasional vehicle passing by, it's as if the neighborhood has been switched off. It will be a few more hours before its on and working. This hour is an odd time to be awake and alert. I am already thinking about the end of the day. When the day is done and I am on a bus home, on the street where the girl in black got off, I see a guy get on. He's gaunt and appears to have teeth which are too bad for his age as he shuffles to his seat. He's wearing a T-shirt, clean and bright in contrast to his body, which reads "Aspen." He's a snowboarder, then, or a ski instructor? I watch as he tried to grab something off of his nose. He reclines his head as his eyes are closed. The following morning is my sixth and final one on this street corner at 3 AM. A couple of dogs, behind a fence across the street, begin a barking contest. Here in mid-July, the fifty or sixty degree mornings are behind us. You know that the night was warm when the 4 AM train is already running its air conditioning. After work, I am downtown at my bank. There a couple of branches on a pedestrian mall, which also has several public pianos for anyone to play. One of them is at the shuttle stop in front of one branch. There is someone standing at the piano, in handcuffs and being searched. The police either saw, or new, or suspected he had a open container of alcohol. On the piano bench is a couple of airline bottles.
The next morning is another Saturday...at 5 AM...at the bus stop across the street. On the bench is a guy with his arms inside of his T-shirt. He's rocking back and forth. He asks me for the time. When our bus shows up, he appears to snap to attention. "The bus is here. I got good instincts." He crushes out a cigarette on a post in the shelter, and puts the butt behind his ear. On the short trip up the street, hear him say something about not expecting anyone to give him any respect. Sitting in the back are a trio of what look like assorted street characters. They are laughing and talking about smoking. At the stop where I get off, there is a guy who is holding up a woman. She is wearing heels and a cocktail dress. I can't hear what he asks the driver, but they don't get on. I cross the street to my usual stop. Some minutes later, they follow along. He carefully deposits her on the bench. When the bus comes, they do get on this one. He sits her down in a seat, with his briefcase and a cloth bag with "National Education Association" on it. She lays her head down on the luggage.
On Saturdays, condominium construction at the train station makes the bus stop away from the train platform, and does not allow me enough time to make my train to work on time. My solution to this has been to walk to the nearby boulevard to catch my last connecting bus to work, instead of relying on the train to connect me. This has worked well since the beginning of construction in May. This morning, I happen upon something which I don't remember seeing before. It's a section of a major boulevard completely blocked off for its own construction. This is nuts. And it means that I won't be connecting with any bus from here until construction here is finished. There is a notice about the construction on the bus stop sign which was not there last Saturday. And as I am only here on Saturdays, I would not have otherwise seen it.
The following morning, I am headed to the bus stop on my way to the supermarket. Headed toward the same stop is a neatly dressed middle-aged guy. In his hand is some information in Spanish. It says something about getting out of prison.
Inside Real Estate News
Good morning to everyone who helps make this city great. Every day I marvel at our determination. ...Denver, where the smartest, most innovative people want to be. We develop workplaces, ecosystems, for the 21st century employee. The transformative power is undeniable. Our goal is to make livable communities. ...for too long (my own part)
of town has been overlooked, but not anymore. ...we are going to...bring food from farm to table, to create jobs and income that will lift up the Westwood community. - Westwood Residents Association FB page, 7/14, Mayor's speech on the Stare of the City
By early 1945...the President in particular believed in indigenous nationalism in Asia... The British, uneasy about questions that Roosevelt raised...were anxious to control future colonial questions on Asia... Truman...military advisors...were wary of what anti-colonialism might mean as far as...future bases in Asia... ...Roosevelt was a man before his time: anti-colonialism had not surfaced yet as the great global movement... ...indeed his own national security advisors thought him very soft on the dangers of world Communism. He saw...the United States as a symbol of the new freedoms , and he was...receptive to the idea that the many poor of the world turn against the rich. - Halberstam
It was an organizing meeting for a labor force. A few Westerners were...present... The obvious leader for the workers...was...a member of the...United Marxist-Leninist Party, which in 2005 had formed a coalition with the...Nepali Congress Party and several...Maoist parties to...replace Nepal's monarchy... While mountain climbers tend to be both liberal and freedom loving, by nature, the realities of collective bargaining...must have come as a shock. The Sherpas, meanwhile, worked in one of the highest-paying industries in Nepal, though the cost of living in the...region has also risen sharply as a result of tourism's success there. - Outside Magazine, August, 2014
With the onset of Dutch colonies in India back in the 1600s, Indian restaurants are part of the landscape of Amsterdam. The story of colonization plays a big part in the role of the rise of Indian and curry restaurants. "The Brits loved us... They felt like we were so worldly because we had our Asian cultures and heritage within us but we grew up in the Sates." - Asian Avenue Magazine, July 2014
Much of the heat had been mounting even before China fell...in 1949... To America, China was a special country... India could have fallen (to Communism), or an African nation, and the reaction would not have been the same. For the American missionaries loved China...more exciting than Peoria...and did not lack for worthy pagans to be converted... The Chinese were puritanical, clean, hard-working, reverent, cheerful, all the virtues Americans most admired. And so a myth had grown up... We helped them and led them, and they in turn loved us. A myth fed by millions of pennies put in thousands of church plates... - Halberstam
At a couple of locations around town, including my own neighborhood, I spotted a xeroxed flyer with a photo of a young guy who I recognized. I remember seeing him just a couple of times around the neighborhood, he had a distinctive face. He was just hanging out or sitting at a bus stop. I saw him with panhandlers, or with drunks. He didn't appear really to be either. Once in a while, I see a younger guy walking with one or more drunks. The flyer claims that he was "murdered by police" when the month was not yet a week old. I've seen the occasional police department flyer, asking for information to help solve a crime or locate a missing person. I remember the name and look for it on the internet. I come upon a local TV report about his death. According to the report, he had been sitting in a stolen car, outside of a funeral service for a friend who had passed away, when a couple of police cars "swooped in" to make an arrest. Though he was unarmed, he put the car in reverse, and struck a police vehicle and an officer both behind him. It does not surprise me that multiple officers fired a total of twenty shots at him, and he drew his last breath through blood. His dad appeared on camera, sounding detached as he searched for words to describe his son, who was twenty and had a couple of felony convictions. The father doesn't strike me as someone who would discuss alternatives to stealing cars with his son.
"Pussy; three dollars..."
Thursday. On a bus home after work, I am listening to a couple of guys sitting next to me. They both appear to be about a decade my senior. They are discussing a mutual friend, who has an "old lady" who called "the man" to file some kind of charges against him. He took off, but checked in with one of them every couple of weeks, until the man...finally got his man. ...he's the man. A couple of days later, it's another Saturday morning. I am at my usual bus stop for the first time in a week. It's a little after 5 AM. I am watching a grey-haired guy in a wheelchair come coasting across the street and up to the bus stop. From a few feet away he smells like urine. He is wearing no shoes and mismatched socks, the right one with a hole in it. Over the course of ten or fifteen minutes, he begins relating to me the structure of a kind of a philosophy of life through a collection of personal narratives of his. I say the structure of a philosophy because, together, the narratives add up to more of a meaningless series of excuses or complaints.
He begins by telling me that he has $300 and no one motel will give him a room, not even "Howard Johnson's." I am unaware of a HoJo's in the metro area, but I will do an internet search. "I've got an income, Social Security, and they won't give me a room. No one wants to take the wheelchair." Well...try the holey sock and the urine odor instead. He claims that the police "call a bus" to take him to a motel. If they don't, he can sue them. He doesn't tell me what put him in the wheelchair, but he optimistically mentions that he's "due to get out of it soon." Tells me that he used to live in Thailand, where a room was 80 cents, a Coke was 25 cents, and "pussy is three dollars." More than anything else, I am struck by the way he uses the vaginal epithet; as if I, a stranger, would never be offended. Listen fella, maybe they use that kind of smut at Howard Johnson's... It's an even more powerful clue to his lack of any kind of connection to social reality than his aroma. I have to keep from laughing because, for reasons known to I know not who, plenty of the men living on these streets (even those "with an income") use profanity without any apparent reason. It continues to make it appear as if they have come through time from some other decade. Yeah, in Thailand he had "a house for $25 and a live in maid for $100." Now he has using profanity. What in the fuck is he talking about? He had his social security checks sent to Thailand? And he tells me he still had $500 left over after the house and maid. If he had the money now (excuse me, the "bread, man") he says he would "split" from Denver. (Right on. Don't do the crime if you can't do the time, oh baby.)
But there's a silver lining in this Southeast Asian social security scam. (Try saying this ten times fast.) He claims that he wants to get working again. Wants to get a truck, "because I can make money with a truck." He can hire a kid in high school or middle school to go door to door, selling watermelons. "And all I have to do is drive..." He says that he can't speak to a woman on the street because she will call the police, who come and write you a ticket. I wonder why... If you take a prostitute to a motel, he claims that the police will fine you $1,000 and take you to jail. He doesn't mention what happens to the "pussy," or if you end up on Johns TV, but the whole trip sound like a real bummer. This cat is bringing me down man. He says that this never happens in Thailand...or Japan, our next stop on his international urine-soaked wheelchair-voyage through delusion. "In Japan, they train women" from birth "to take care of a man." Traditional Japanese female role as a prostitute? Far out man. And love is a stranger, that beckons you on...
Yes, a man can dream, until the fuzz rips off your wheels. He says that he had a car, until he was sentenced for seventy days. I wonder why...no, let's skip it. When he got out, the police had impounded his car. When he went down to get it back (he never mentioned paying the impound fee, which after a couple of months must have been steep) he was told that they sold it. "That's illegal," he points out. Well, I think that they may have auctioned it, if that's what he means, which they do with uncollected impound vehicles, but I digress into logic. And he claims that he hired three lawyers to sue the police. I like a man who believes in a nation of laws, who is willing to challenge city hall with not even shoes on his feet. But even the legal system betrayed this folksy, avuncular outpatient. He says that if his trio of attorneys is successful is getting his car back, they will hold the title until he pays them. You know, for a guy who waxes nostalgic for the high life in Thailand and who has at least a passing desire for his legal rights, he ends up expecting the worst out of life. He doesn't need a lawyer, he needs Tony Robbins, or a life coach. Listen you piss-smelling, foul-mouthed, sexist killjoy, I'm not sitting here to listen to you cry about your ridiculously droll existence, or this even more ridiculous take on your tiny, fly-infested, rusty corner of the world. You appear perfectly satisfied, even happy. He's been smiling the whole time, perhaps getting high on his own urine fumes. He's like the kid in the principal's office who knocked over the fish tank and didn't even realize that it smashed into pieces. There is no talking to someone like you who has as little use for sense as anyone I've seen out on these streets. Thank the Thai prostitutes and house cleaners, and Japanese women everywhere that my bus finally arrives. I've just spent the most wasted ten minutes of my life listening to some lost character from a seventies TV show, which would surely somehow have been better spent doing nothing at all.
"The Today Show" has ranked Denver among its top five friendliest cities in the US, and it's easy to see why. It's a shame, then...we don't...get to know one another - including our own (probably very friendly) neighbors. - Out Front Magazine, 7/16/2014
It's Tuesday, during a week in which I am at the bus stop a half hour later than usual. At the bus stop across the street from where I live is a middle aged guy who crossed the street with me. He's in a fishing hat and vest, dress shirt and pants, and dress shoes. At 5:30 in the AM. He must be on his way to do a local fishing show on TV. He's carrying a laundry bag. We get on the bus when it comes, and up the street, I get off the bus with a tall, thin guy in a straw hat. He's using a cane and he has a cardboard sign tucked under his right arm. I head over to the deathburger, and on my way back to my usual stop, I see him there. He's looking up and down the avenue. Before I get to the stop, he turns and walks away from the stop. After work, I get on a bus at the train station. I'm sitting in front of a woman in a neon green workout shirt with a red heart on it. She is talking to a woman in another seat, telling her that she moved here with her boyfriend before they broke up. She's currently staying with a friend. The other woman asks her, "How's your daughter's baby?" She answers that her daughter is living in a halfway house and "is a lesbian now." As the bus approaches my neighborhood, traffic is stopped by a phalanx of police vehicles, three road flares, and an ambulance. The driver opens the door, and I get off and walk to my street.
The following afternoon, I am in a deathburger in a neighborhood some distance from my own. It;s been a non-stop humid, sweltering day on never-ending work. A couple of weeks or so ago, I was in this same establishment with four young guys dressed in sports team outfits. They all had Irish accents, and were commenting to each other about the place, that it advertises wi-fi. One of them was interested in the soda machine. It dispenses some hundred different flavors. Only in America. I had no clue where they had come from or why they were here in this obscure part of the city. I later heard that they were competing in an international lacrosse competition hosted here in town. It's later in the month now, and one of the few patrons here this afternoon is a guy who appears as if he could be a character from a commercial. He's wearing dark blue work pants and a matching shirt, and red suspenders. When I notice him, he is staring with some puzzlement at the very same soda machine.
Math Module
This week, I am working next to a hot yoga place. One of the employees comes in and asks me if the cars parked in our spaces are customers of hers. I tell her, that's what I understand. She replies that she is disappointed. "It's very unyogic." The following morning is another Saturday. I am initiating my plan to get to work while avoiding both a train station where, due to construction of condominiums next to the platform, I can't catch my bus early enough; as well as avoiding a bus stop where the bus does not appear to want to stop. The plan? I take my usual bus up to the street to a connecting bus, which takes me to a station where I can catch the same train which will take me to the bus which it appears i can't catch at the first two locations. On the connecting bus, I see a guy with grey hair and a grey beard. He's wearing a windbreaker, shorts, and dress shoes with no socks. It appears odd on him. When he gets up to get off, he has a bow-legged gait. I walk to the station, where a guy is hanging out. He has hair like Tina Turner in the 1960s and a beard just as big. His pants have holes the entire length of both legs. He asks me about my shirt, if it's from Boston College. He then tells me that he is a spiritual man, and he wants to ask me a question. He wants to know, "If a man puts a demon's wishes before God's wishes, should that man deserve God?" Is this a question about repentance? I tell him that I have absolutely no idea. He says, "Anyway, I'm a spiritual man." With that, he's off. When my train shows up, I get on with the shorts guy and sit down across from him. I pull out my camera, and he gets up and moves.
I get off at my station and i get the bus which I have been trying to catch for two Saturdays in a row. On a seat is a pamphlet with a picture of an aborted fetus. I immediately think of Palestinian children in Gaza hospitals. The same instructor is here, this morning training yet another new driver. He was probably on the bus which blew past me four minutes early last week. He tells the trainee that he believes that the transit system will contract out 90% of its bus driver employment. The future is in the lightrail and shuttle services." He says, "You'll have a full day of classroom today. I don't know what they do in there. I was an instructor from 1991 to 2002. I resigned from the instruction department." It sounds as if the transit system eliminated the bonus system for instructors. When I get out of work, it's now seven and a half hours after my encounter with a spiritual man. I'm tight back at the same train station. It's located on the edge of a campus which is home to three community colleges. The train rolls by a campus police car with its lights on. A passenger claims that there is "a shit load of cops" further into the campus. Another passenger sitting next to her says, "There's always so many fights here."
...like so many Americans, the war had begun the moment he arrived; the past had never happened and need not be taken seriously... ...they had made the mistake of being in a colonial war... ,,,phrases about this being a political war...he did not really believe them. - Halberstam
None of us here in the metro area will ever be living life in the fast lane ever again. Sorry. ...there are now so many people living here...who brought their 2.2 cars with them... The 10-county metro area is fast becoming home to 3 million people, and what seems like just about that many semi-trucks and plumber vans. The interstate and freeway system now collapsing under the weight...was designed when the area population was about 600,000 people. Outside of late evenings and early Sunday mornings, you aren't going anywhere fast on metro-area highways ever again... ...there isn't even enough money in the state's annual $1.1 billion highways budget to keep the roads and bridges we do have in good repair. - Aurora Sentinel, 7/24 - 7/30/2014
It's my day off. I go for a swim, and I get out with everyone else who watches a huge black cloud come overhead. I'm walking home when it begins to pour. Though I left my umbrella at home, I decide to walk in the rain. Not long after this decision, it really opens up. The water pooling along the curb is warm when I have to step into it. The pool is in a park with geese. I stop when I come to a goose on the sidewalk. We both are waiting in the pouring rain. The goose decides to cross the street. I'm at a corner now, across the street from a beauty salon. Two young girls in dresses are squealing with joy at the downpour. They stick their heads out from under shelter and soak their hair.
Today is the last day of July. I'm at the deathburger once again. The first family I've seen there at 5 AM walks in, a mom and three kids. One of the boys picks up a loose menu from the counter. It has trendy items such as "Go-gurt," yogurt in a tube. His tells his mom that he wants a hamburger. She explains that they have "No hamburgers, it's breakfast." After work, I'm downtown at my bank. I head over to a major intersection, known for its open air drug transactions, to catch a bus home. A young blonde in sandals, a small American flag in one hand and a clipboard in the other, is buttonholing bystanders. "Are you registered to vote?" she asks. I lie and tell her yes. She replies, "Awesome."
