Going at it alone. Today as I woke up to move my car, I saw the reminiscent of a review of garbage for hot items gone terribly wrong. There was debris and shit strewed along the sidewalk. Today as I walked down the street by myself after yoga, I saw a perfectly cut kiwi abandoned on the street. Today as I walked to pick up the kids, alone, I saw the torn bag of mcdonalds stepping into the wrappers and topped off with ketchup smeared on my path. Tonight as I walked home from parking my car, a man who didn’t see me relieved himself not once not twice but three or four times. Huge juicy farts. Shaking with laughter until I couldn’t hold it in my throat any longer, it escaped the clicking noise of my laughter. I smiled and laughed by myself all the way home.
When you go at it alone, the walking, the walking down a city street. You see more. More than if you had a partner walking in unison, chatter would diminish your surrounds. If you had music in your ears to drown out the city swish of cars, sirens, random guys farting wouldn’t be left for your own personal stand up comedy show. You see more. When you are alone. Observe more. Participate more in the ever moving flowing around the current not stopping but you stop and pause and listen. And then move on laughing. Laughing.
After yoga with mat in hand, I crossed the street to my block and 3 men, one I recognized and called Kayne west not to his face but to my friends. He is the player of my block. He always has a host of women all different ethnicities in variety of sizes in tow. He either is a pimp or a player or maybe both. I crossed and the three men- kayne with his gold grill and hip glasses and hat, his friend very large and in charge, and another guy with you guessed it a baby pit bull with a mean looking collar with spikes all reside on the corner. I walk towards them with a semi- street face on. The large in charge one says- how long have you done yoga? A few years. I don’t pause long and ask have you ever tried it. He doesn’t look like he does much of any exercise. No I haven’t. Does it make you feel good? Yes. Plus there are a lot of girls who do it. And they wear tight clothes so you might be able to steal a glance but not too much or the instructor might say something. They all laugh hard surprised their white neighbor is actually funny and not scared of them. We laugh together and I go up my stoop home.
When I moved into this neighborhood- when there were groups of men on my stoop as I moved in- I realized you have two choices: you either are scared of the homies or befriend them. So I choice the later. Going at it alone. I make friends with the dudes who hang out on the street across from the cleaned up projects- these gardens of Valencia. We go alone. And see more. More when we aren’t distracted. When we aren’t looking. When we aren’t talking. When we just are walking. Alone. We begin to see more. More. And see it all. Not all pretty, not all funny. But the wave of humanity only seen by eyes that are open.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Going It Alone - E. D. James
To all appearances it was a perfect family group. The mother and father attentive and supportive. The adolescent appeared healthy and alert, learning its lessons in survival. Lessons it would need in just a few short weeks when they took off for the winter feeding grounds in the California’s Central Valley. But Olivia knew this family had a past that wasn’t quite so idyllic, like every family.
For the past fifteen seasons that Olivia had been observing this flock of Sandhill Cranes that summered around Homer, Alaska, the mother had been with another male. She had produced thirteen offspring with her previous mate. Cranes that were now the forming the core of the resurgent growth of the flock. But for the previous two seasons this long-standing couple had failed to produce viable eggs. Olivia had watched at the start of the summer as the female drove her long-standing mate away. Viciously. Whenever the male approached she attacked him with beak and talons, drawing blood on more than one occasion. Several younger, stronger males approached over those frenzied first days in Alaska. The female danced with several of them while her former mate watched. Finally she chose and coupled with a male who then joined her in driving the ex out of their territory.
Now the new family group fed furiously on the bounty of the August insects and reptiles and amphibians that blessed the wetlands around Homer. They were building fat and strength for their fifteen hundred mile trip to the wetlands and cornfields around Lodi, California. Olivia had been watching for several days, looking for a chance to trap the adult male with satellite and radio transmitters so that she could track their return to the winter grounds and observe their behavior over the coming months. The sunny, calm day was perfect for her blast nets and she had high hopes she would accomplish her goal this afternoon.
A shadow passed across the edge of Olivia vision. The shadow morphed into a Bald Eagle hurtling from the sky with talons aimed. The adult male Crane unfolded its long wings and jumped to the side about ten feet in one tremendous leap. It was too late. The Eagle hit the crane in the middle of its back knocking it to the ground in a cloud of feathers. Olivia began running in the direction of the birds yelling and making as much noise as she could. The Eagle locked it’s talons into the back and sunk its beak into the neck and spread its wings trying to lift off with its prize before the crazed woman rushing at them could spoil it’s meal. It flapped once, twice, and lifted the still squirming body of the Crane off the ground, but as it rose, the chunk of flesh held by the talons broke loose. The body began falling and the Eagles neck bent sharply down for just an instant as its beak took up the weight and then it let go and the Crane dropped to the ground. The Eagle flapped hard and rose back into bright blue sky, screaming in frustration over it’s lost meal.
For the past fifteen seasons that Olivia had been observing this flock of Sandhill Cranes that summered around Homer, Alaska, the mother had been with another male. She had produced thirteen offspring with her previous mate. Cranes that were now the forming the core of the resurgent growth of the flock. But for the previous two seasons this long-standing couple had failed to produce viable eggs. Olivia had watched at the start of the summer as the female drove her long-standing mate away. Viciously. Whenever the male approached she attacked him with beak and talons, drawing blood on more than one occasion. Several younger, stronger males approached over those frenzied first days in Alaska. The female danced with several of them while her former mate watched. Finally she chose and coupled with a male who then joined her in driving the ex out of their territory.
Now the new family group fed furiously on the bounty of the August insects and reptiles and amphibians that blessed the wetlands around Homer. They were building fat and strength for their fifteen hundred mile trip to the wetlands and cornfields around Lodi, California. Olivia had been watching for several days, looking for a chance to trap the adult male with satellite and radio transmitters so that she could track their return to the winter grounds and observe their behavior over the coming months. The sunny, calm day was perfect for her blast nets and she had high hopes she would accomplish her goal this afternoon.
A shadow passed across the edge of Olivia vision. The shadow morphed into a Bald Eagle hurtling from the sky with talons aimed. The adult male Crane unfolded its long wings and jumped to the side about ten feet in one tremendous leap. It was too late. The Eagle hit the crane in the middle of its back knocking it to the ground in a cloud of feathers. Olivia began running in the direction of the birds yelling and making as much noise as she could. The Eagle locked it’s talons into the back and sunk its beak into the neck and spread its wings trying to lift off with its prize before the crazed woman rushing at them could spoil it’s meal. It flapped once, twice, and lifted the still squirming body of the Crane off the ground, but as it rose, the chunk of flesh held by the talons broke loose. The body began falling and the Eagles neck bent sharply down for just an instant as its beak took up the weight and then it let go and the Crane dropped to the ground. The Eagle flapped hard and rose back into bright blue sky, screaming in frustration over it’s lost meal.
Going Alone - John Fetto
The screen door banged so loudly behind Hawley that he reached back, too late quiet it, and for a moment felt guilty, sorry, like it was he and not her who had made the mistake, then something tightened inside and he pulled his hand away. He shoved his hands in his pockets and stumbled down the steps, then softly on to grass. He knew how to walk quietly. He knew how to protect himself. He didn’t need anyone. He’d walked for miles by himself. For a moment the quiet neighborhood around Johanna’s house looked as hostile as any Indochinese jungle, foreigners whispering behind the walls in a language he didn’t understand. He wasn’t part of them. He would never be part of them. He kept walking on the grass, slipping between the shadows cast by the street lamps so the eyes he felt from every house couldn’t follow him.
Two blocks away from Johanna’s house, just when the street curved and he wouldn’t be able to turn around and see the yellow light on her front porch. He looked back. It didn’t look any different than all the other foreign houses in the foreign land. For a moment he felt sorry for himself and wondered where his home was if not there and then his spine tightened and stopped. He was by himself. It was a triumphant thought. A successful rebellion against those who did not understand and then it was followed by something else, something unexpected: a moment of loneliness, so deep, his body bent, and against all his biter resolutions he looked back and saw the yellow light of Johanna’s porch light as warm as any camp fire he’d ever felt on a cold night in the woods.
Two blocks away from Johanna’s house, just when the street curved and he wouldn’t be able to turn around and see the yellow light on her front porch. He looked back. It didn’t look any different than all the other foreign houses in the foreign land. For a moment he felt sorry for himself and wondered where his home was if not there and then his spine tightened and stopped. He was by himself. It was a triumphant thought. A successful rebellion against those who did not understand and then it was followed by something else, something unexpected: a moment of loneliness, so deep, his body bent, and against all his biter resolutions he looked back and saw the yellow light of Johanna’s porch light as warm as any camp fire he’d ever felt on a cold night in the woods.
Going It Alone - Melody Cryns
Last night my older daughter Melissa and her long-time friend Alex showed up at my front door. Even though I knew Melissa wanted to borrow $20 from me and even though I’m broke because the car I just bought needed work already, I was happy to see them. Melissa lives in San Francisco and I don’t get to see her all the time.
“Hi Mom,” Melissa said, giving me a big hug.
“Hi, congratulations!” Alex said – he’s 29 years old, the same age as Stevie and I’ve known Alex with the dark curly hair and cute smile since he was around 14 when he and Melissa and their friends hung out. Alex and Melissa still remain best of friends after all these years, and one summer, I think it was the summer of 2007, Alex stayed at my apartment for most of the summer. We had no idea at the time that he was kicking a bad drug habit, and my place was his safe haven. Alex and I would even hang out when Melissa wasn’t around – and I got him hooked on Beatles music after a couple of trip to see the Sun Kings.
“Congratulations?” I said, forgetting for a moment.
“You know!”
“Oh yeah!” Jen, Jeremy’s girlfriend is pregnant and I’m going to be a Grandma. But were congratulations in order for me?
Yeah, I’m going to be a Grandma. I’d almost forgotten. How could I forget that? Melissa made a special trip down to hang out with Jeremy with a batch of brownies – she said they watched cartoons last night with Jeremy’s puppy Jerry acting all hyper. Melissa said she was trying to picture Jeremy as a Dad and it was hard. But she didn’t get mad about it – she said you can’t get mad over something that’s done. Stevie is mad at Jeremy and Jen because he says they aren’t ready – and because he just broke up with his girlfriend of five years (for a little while, he says) because he’s not ready. Little brother beat him to it.
As Alex and Melissa walked into the living room of the funky old house we live in and sat down on the old couches that sat in my Dad’s living room for 20 years before I inherited them, I thought about how my kids are all moving forward with their lives.
“You ever gonna get new couches?” Melissa laughed, as if she read my mind.
“Yeah, one of these days.”
One of these days, I’ll get new couches, and a brand new car – now I’m driving this old-school 1997 Honda Civic Coupe. One of these days, I’ll get a house – it’s always one of these days.
As we talked and laughed and Megan walked in with her new boyfriend Val, I took comfort in having my family around me in spite of everything going on.
“Are you in a relationship yet?” asked Alex, right out of the blue. We all laughed.
“Well, sort of – got a couple of guy friends,” I said, wondering if I ever will be truly in a “relationship.”
“Ohhh, well, you know what? If I was 50 and straight, I’d ask you out!”
Melissa and I burst out laughing – and we joked about that all night long, about how all would be well if only Alex was 50 and straight! Oh well, going it alone isn’t all bad – there’s a certain freedom that I have, although the path of going it alone can get lonely at times…
I said good-bye to Alex and Melissa spent the night, sleeping on the old couch – the same one she camped out on for a year and a half when she was only supposed to stay with me for a couple of months – the same couches we slept on when we’d visit my Dad even before Megan was born…
“Hi Mom,” Melissa said, giving me a big hug.
“Hi, congratulations!” Alex said – he’s 29 years old, the same age as Stevie and I’ve known Alex with the dark curly hair and cute smile since he was around 14 when he and Melissa and their friends hung out. Alex and Melissa still remain best of friends after all these years, and one summer, I think it was the summer of 2007, Alex stayed at my apartment for most of the summer. We had no idea at the time that he was kicking a bad drug habit, and my place was his safe haven. Alex and I would even hang out when Melissa wasn’t around – and I got him hooked on Beatles music after a couple of trip to see the Sun Kings.
“Congratulations?” I said, forgetting for a moment.
“You know!”
“Oh yeah!” Jen, Jeremy’s girlfriend is pregnant and I’m going to be a Grandma. But were congratulations in order for me?
Yeah, I’m going to be a Grandma. I’d almost forgotten. How could I forget that? Melissa made a special trip down to hang out with Jeremy with a batch of brownies – she said they watched cartoons last night with Jeremy’s puppy Jerry acting all hyper. Melissa said she was trying to picture Jeremy as a Dad and it was hard. But she didn’t get mad about it – she said you can’t get mad over something that’s done. Stevie is mad at Jeremy and Jen because he says they aren’t ready – and because he just broke up with his girlfriend of five years (for a little while, he says) because he’s not ready. Little brother beat him to it.
As Alex and Melissa walked into the living room of the funky old house we live in and sat down on the old couches that sat in my Dad’s living room for 20 years before I inherited them, I thought about how my kids are all moving forward with their lives.
“You ever gonna get new couches?” Melissa laughed, as if she read my mind.
“Yeah, one of these days.”
One of these days, I’ll get new couches, and a brand new car – now I’m driving this old-school 1997 Honda Civic Coupe. One of these days, I’ll get a house – it’s always one of these days.
As we talked and laughed and Megan walked in with her new boyfriend Val, I took comfort in having my family around me in spite of everything going on.
“Are you in a relationship yet?” asked Alex, right out of the blue. We all laughed.
“Well, sort of – got a couple of guy friends,” I said, wondering if I ever will be truly in a “relationship.”
“Ohhh, well, you know what? If I was 50 and straight, I’d ask you out!”
Melissa and I burst out laughing – and we joked about that all night long, about how all would be well if only Alex was 50 and straight! Oh well, going it alone isn’t all bad – there’s a certain freedom that I have, although the path of going it alone can get lonely at times…
I said good-bye to Alex and Melissa spent the night, sleeping on the old couch – the same one she camped out on for a year and a half when she was only supposed to stay with me for a couple of months – the same couches we slept on when we’d visit my Dad even before Megan was born…
The Art of Love & Frenzy - Kent Wright
This comes up all the time around here. We talk about it over those lunches and dinners that are always bland and the same. We talk about over bingo or during what the staff calls “pretty nails”. Sometimes those conversations are difficult because one of us forgets what we are talking about (or who we are talking to) and we keep having to start the conversation again. Falling asleep in the middle of conversations is also a problem around here. Whatever the problems, sex is on our minds. Oh, we know what those that don’t live (yet) in a home like this say. I’m talking about those smug thingies who think their fifty year of bodies are not going to sag, and they will always be going to mixers at the country club instead of hanging onto a walker like some do here. They smirk and primp and talk about all the experience they bring to the bedroom. Gertrude Main is one of those. She likes to coo and talk softly about “the art of love”. Well Gertrude and her kind are in for a surprise. Depends can take the “art” out of anything. We here at the home don’t bother talking about the art of love anymore. We don’t sprinkle lavender sachet around, and we don’t bother with code words like being “grabbed by the Frenzy – another Gertrudism. By the time anyone around here got that unscrambled the Frenzy would have been long gone. We just say My room is empty let’s have one of the girls (our care givers) wheel us down there and shut the door. We know those girls laugh at us and what they mean as they laugh and say “Now don’t hurt yourselves” as they are clicking the brake on the wheel chairs. The door closes and the pawing begins. I am not going to sugar coat it for you. Pawing is what it amounts to, but if being touched by another old paw is all there is, that is good enough.
Frenzy - Judy Albietz
In the center of the courtyard, Anubis stood over Sam, ready to deliver the death blow. Lily looked over to the huddled mass of pack dogs to see if they’d be any help. Their fear of Anubis had rendered them useless, even though they outnumbered him eleven to one. It was up to her. She had to do something. To save Sam.
Shaking with fury, Lily jumped to her feet. Maybe she could distract Anubis. Even though she was 25 feet away, she could still stare him right in the eye. And he could hear her. With her arms flung out, she took a deep breath, threw her head back and yelled, “STOP!” Her voice boomed out with the sound of thunder. Her body kicked back—like a cannon ball had been fired from her mouth. Yes! Lily said to herself, watching Anubis totter and fall, stepping back from her and Sam’s inert body.
Still dazed by the sound of her voice, Lily listened as her scream strangely grew even louder and more awful—bouncing off the hard surfaces of the ancient stone buildings, echoing over the worn pavers of the courtyard. Then the echoes were joined by the sound of crackling followed by three small explosions. A large man-sized boulder had been holding together a corner of the ancient courtyard wall. Now in its place was only a pile of sand. That still didn’t stop Anubis, who had climbed back onto his feet and was moving toward Lily. But he didn’t get more than one step before the pack dogs, in a flash of movement, bore down on him. Their trance broken, they still weren’t fast enough to get Anubis before he slipped away.
Shaking with fury, Lily jumped to her feet. Maybe she could distract Anubis. Even though she was 25 feet away, she could still stare him right in the eye. And he could hear her. With her arms flung out, she took a deep breath, threw her head back and yelled, “STOP!” Her voice boomed out with the sound of thunder. Her body kicked back—like a cannon ball had been fired from her mouth. Yes! Lily said to herself, watching Anubis totter and fall, stepping back from her and Sam’s inert body.
Still dazed by the sound of her voice, Lily listened as her scream strangely grew even louder and more awful—bouncing off the hard surfaces of the ancient stone buildings, echoing over the worn pavers of the courtyard. Then the echoes were joined by the sound of crackling followed by three small explosions. A large man-sized boulder had been holding together a corner of the ancient courtyard wall. Now in its place was only a pile of sand. That still didn’t stop Anubis, who had climbed back onto his feet and was moving toward Lily. But he didn’t get more than one step before the pack dogs, in a flash of movement, bore down on him. Their trance broken, they still weren’t fast enough to get Anubis before he slipped away.
Treasure - Maria Robinson
Summary:
Ted had treasured Vera, his wife of twenty years, even as she was ever so slowly inching away from him and finally just broke the chain one day. The years they'd spent in Berkeley CA had been filled faculty events, the inevitable kissing up, the months hold up his study working on his articles on German Political theory and finally the coveted laurel of tenure.
Against her mother's advice, Vera had given up her legal career in Chicago, though she never missed it. But she never fit in as a faculty wife.
Scene:
" Ted", Vera called the front stairs of their shingled Berkeley house.
Hearing no answer, Vera placed the salad on the table and brought in the lamb chops from the backyard grill.
" Ted! We're eating".
Ted had treasured Vera, his wife of twenty years, even as she was ever so slowly inching away from him and finally just broke the chain one day. The years they'd spent in Berkeley CA had been filled faculty events, the inevitable kissing up, the months hold up his study working on his articles on German Political theory and finally the coveted laurel of tenure.
Against her mother's advice, Vera had given up her legal career in Chicago, though she never missed it. But she never fit in as a faculty wife.
Scene:
" Ted", Vera called the front stairs of their shingled Berkeley house.
Hearing no answer, Vera placed the salad on the table and brought in the lamb chops from the backyard grill.
" Ted! We're eating".
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