...what developers like to call a..."live-work-play hub." ...an archetype for that scene - miles from Denver's urban core [and smack where I live.] "We see suburban markets now in a way we didn't see ten years ago. Retail is one of the best-kept secrets." ...profit from their walkability to...luxurious condos. ...the dining synergy - a different place for every night of the week - draws specialty vendors to spaces that were once hard to lease...
SportyPickle is a place where you can...participate in...pickleball. ...karaoke night and cosmic pickle.... If you haven't heard, pickleball is the fastest growing sport in the country. Hungry, but in the heat of a pickleball battle? ...your server will come... ,,,pickle foods, pickle drinks, pickle shots. ...the Dirty Pickle cocktail... - Avid Lifestyle, 1/2025
The place got so hot that we could see the skies...glowing white some nights, then yellow in the day. We grab flashlights from the busted monster marts. For a while we look into the ruins, but that gets nasty fast. The stench of fresh death blows at us... Bodies staring from windows... We gather canned food... - Omni Magazine, 11/1983
I take the opportunity of having New Year's Day off to pick up some groceries down the street. I waited until today, as it's also payday. I leave the house around noon. I'm out of eggs and haven't had breakfast. I stop into a deathburger along the way to the supermarket. I watch a guy approach the entrance. He carries a pair of sticks which e leaves outside. He goes inside to use the men's room. He comes out, picks up his sticks, and walks away. Inside, Santa Claus is seated at a booth. Instead of his red suit, he's in a black hoodie. And his complexion is anything but ruddy. Ahead of me at the counter is an elderly woman who is having trouble communicating and comprehending. She continues to knock herself on the head as she says something about how she doesn't 'think right'. The manager is helping her. I've never seen such a well-dressed manager at any deathburger. She's in a lavender blazer. I eat and run to the supermarket. I pick up my groceries and head home. My lady wants to get together again this afternoon. On Saturday, the below freezing overnight temps have found their way into the day. I'm out the door and headed for the train, as I'm getting a late start. When I get across the street, I suddenly see a dusting of snow blowing across the street. It will be overcast all day, I will encounter a single flurry waiting for the bus, and I will ride home along the trail through specific areas where snow dusts the trail. Sometime this past week, I saw a pair of police cruisers parked across the street from my place. They were in front of an apartment complex. This early evening, I'm coming from dinner at the Chinese place behind my place, headed for the gas station. I watch another pair of police cruisers pull up to the very same curb. A third turns down an alley along the apartment building.
Sunday. I need more diet soda for work. But I don't have time to go to the supermarket after the gym, or onto work. I need to go the opposite direction, to the copy place. My annual broadcast music and talk radio nonsense compilation has somehow been finished. It spans five 90-minute audio cassette tapes. Not only this, but labels for all five cassettes are also ready. I don't know how I accomplished this, but here I am. All that needs be done now is to make copies of the labels and trim them to be inserted into the cases. This I will get dome when I get home. I will also manage to get ten tapes packaged for two deliveries. Just...not before I leave the gym without being able to purchase more visits to the gym. Because their credit card terminal is down. I will need to come back. When I'm in the men's locker room, preparing to do my workout, I spot a pair of reading glasses. They are laying lenses down on the tile floor. I want to shoot a photo of them. But a wispy white-haired guy comes and stands in front of the locker above them. He stands there almost as if he's unsure what to do next. He takes a key and unlocks the locker, before he opens the door. Again, he stands there, as if he's showing us what's inside. I'm walking out when he points to them, and quietly mentions that someone left their glasses. I reply that I see that, and if I can see that I guess I don't need glasses. Each end of the pair has a piece of tape, of two different colors. It was this morning when I left my place. I rode to a stop for my bus to the gym. On a bench was a guy who was talking to someone I assumed was himself. Inside, on a back seat, was a familiar homeless guy. He had a hat with a short brim, and was the one speaking through an open window to the other one outside.
From the gym I take the train straight to the station where the copy place is. One homeless guy takes a seat across the aisle. At the next stop, a second homeless guy comes aboard with a bicycle. I'm in a seat with my own bike, in one "extra space area". He puts his bike in the other space across the aisle, in front of the first guy. The second one takes a seat in front of my own bike. A third homeless guy steps aboard at the following stop. The second guy offers his seat to the third guy. The third guy has a collection of plastic bags filled with stuff. The second guy takes his bike and moves to the end of the car, and sits on a step in front of the door to the car. Soon, he begins playing loud music on a device, '80s cock rock. Then he begins yelling about the government. The first guy suggests to him that he chill out. The second guy exits at a stop. The first guy exits next. I get up and move to the end of the train car as my stop is next. The guy with the bags silently motions to me that I left a business card on my seat. I tell him it isn't mine. I step out at my station and take the short ride to the copy place. This is a shopping center, one end of which was torn down to put up condominiums. There's half of one end which appears as if it's vacant. It doesn't take long to make the copies. I ride back to the train where I spot a bus back to my boulevard. I elect to jump on it. The driver gets out and walks to the end of a building. I watch him. Is he doing pushups? No, he's praying to Mecca. We soon get going, and I now recall a couple of recent issues at home. The zipper on my old gym bag has given out. I've been using an old bag I have laying around. Also, the lamp on the bar of my kitchen has a new bulb I put in. It's not working. I need a new lamp and a new gym bag. The bus I'm on won't take me to a place where I may find either of these new. ...it will drop me right in front of an ARC. And this is right where I decide to disembark. I sneak in the front door as it's held open by a woman for someone coming out behind her. When I'm inside, she says to me, "You're welcome." I reply, "I am." As strangers, we've exchanged the usual pleasantries in reverse. I can't speak for her, but I'm glad we're strangers. As bassist Derek Smalls of Spinal Tap said, this is a case better left unsolved. I find a small lamp and a nice big bag for the gym. It's a short ride home down a residential street. Parked in front of another residence are what appear to be the same three police cruisers. I wonder if they are here for reasons related to their visit across the street from my place?
Monday. I have a lot to do this morning. Hit the bank and deposit cash to cover my gym membership. Hit the gym and renew my membership. Hit the supermarket for diet soda, and before I get to work, hit the post office to mail out the tapes. And get more stamps. ...then I get the call. Can I come in two hours early? All the other stuff will have to wait. When I get home this evening, there will be a voicemail on my land line from the gym, inquiring about paying my membership. I call the cafe across from a stop for my bus to work and place a to go breakfast order. I run out of the house, turn a corner, make my way around a homeless guy pulling a wagon, and head for the train station where I pay for a fare ticket. I make the short ride to the cafe, pick up my order, cross the busy avenue to the bus stop, and grab the bus to work. The cafe has the current issue of a new local literary magazine I like, and I grab one. At work, for the next 8 1/2 hours, I'm working nonstop. I make it across the street to catch the bus home. It's dark, flakes are falling, and a lady is out here who I used to speak Spanish to a few years ago. I hear her tell a friend that the guy with her is her son. The bus arrives and this driver gives me a discounted day pass. He assumes I'm 62. The bus makes its way up to the university district. At a busy corner, one young guy with long hair wanders around a bus stop. The driver stops and decides he's just loitering before beginning to pull away. the guy wants the bus. He stops for him. We get to the train station as a train is pulling in. I take it to my station and spot a bus home. I ride to it and I'm taking my bag off my back rack as I hear someone yelling. I turn around to see a homeless guy on the far platform. He has a pair of dogs on a leash. I suppose he can try to take them on a train. I step aboard my bus. Shortly, the guy with the dogs comes along. He asks the driver how to get cross town, mentioning a corner of two streets. I used to cross that corner every morning before sunrise, on my way from where I lived to where I worked 34 years ago. The driver suggests one bus route. The guy doesn't appear to be interested in his suggestion. the driver says out loud, "Or you can walk [there]." The bus drops me on the boulevard where I live now. I walk through my door and go downstairs. The phone rings and I run back up. I pick up the receiver. Can I come in an hour early tomorrow?
