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Cross Dressing
People are afraid to talk about the weather because they think it makes them seem like uninspired dullards. It stands to reason then, if you are an uninspired dullard, you have nothing to fear regarding weather related conversation. Boy, is it hot.
On the Banks Street neutral ground, at Dorgenois, and at Rocheblave, there are planted simple wooden crosses, to signify I can only guess, death.
On the southwest corner of Canal and Rocheblave is a boarded up government building. Waiting at the S. Rocheblave stop sign I was letting traffic pass before crossing the six divided lanes. The lanes are divided by a neutral ground and streetcar tracks which duly separate North and South Rocheblave, even though the street pretty much runs east/west. To the right, up on a grassy knoll, were two beefy men in t-shirts I immediately made as cops. There was another male best described as pedestrian. There was a dog. And there was a blond woman dressed in a red and blue Michelin suit. I mean some sort of puffy suit that made her look like the Michelin man.
The Michelin man is an icon for a tire company.
The woman in the suit climbed to the top of the knoll and then the pedestrian man let loose the dog, a german shepherd. The dog raced up the hill and when he was close he leapt at the woman and knocked her on her ass, and began chewing voraciously on her Michelin flesh, which was really protective fabric. The three men then raced up and tried to stop the dog but the dog was intent on hurting the Michelin man who was really a woman.
I had to cross and they were still working on fido but they should really sell tickets if they are going to perform stunts like that in this neighborhood. I would buy one and I bet a bunch of other people would too. They could raise money for a good cause.
Morning Notes
I was looking down on an amateur in a Red Ferrari in the center lane, in New York City, as we went nowhere in a cab in the Village, late on a beautiful summer night, maybe school’s out fever, the streets were raucous, people checking in from all the boroughs, and it wasn’t raining.
Today someone commented you don’t look like you rested much on your vacation. I had too much to do, things to bump into, ideas to formulate, super heroes to entertain. I can rest later. Like today at work when the boss isn’t looking.
But really my boss has been very good to me over the years, and lately has been taking it very easy; all the other trades look at us suspiciously when we pack it in at 1:30.
I found a couple of fist-sized bruises on the inside of my leg, just above the knee, further testament to the possible rewards of being a klutz. I can get the stitches out of my face today, or Thursday.
Last night I flirted with a woman, and she with me, at the Canal and Carrollton grocery store buffet at which I often eat. It started when she pleaded for me to give up the last of the cabbage, let her have it, of course, why wouldn’t I let her have it. At the checkout she tried to buy my dinner but I stuck to the autonomy of my current formulation. It seems clear though, that there is the beginning of a shift in that alignment.