<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/plusone.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d10304686\x26blogName\x3dThe+Proverbial+Line\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dBLACK\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttp://scottpatrick.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den_US\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttp://scottpatrick.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d-5786071934619625915', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>
Wednesday, August 23, 2006

Hot Time, Summer...

Ah, the sights and sounds (and smells) of summer in the city...This
morning as I walk the 3 blocks from the bus to my office, I am greeted
by the mayhem that I call home.

I pass the spot where the young man fell/jumped to his death just
yesterday afternoon while I was on my lunchtime walk. The spot, where, less
than a day before, I saw a bloody, nearly-naked man covered in a
blanket, has since been cleaned and all evidence washed away.

I sigh, and move on to ponder the inuendo (for those with a dirty
mind) streaming out of my iPod..."Did I dissappoint you, or leave a
bad taste in your mouth." I chuckle and quickly return to my sadness
for the poor soul who met his untimely fate. I wonder if he was
dissappointed?

Crossing 6th and passing the theater, I attempt to ignore the vagrant
with headphones trying to score forty-three cents. What does he need
such an exact amount for anyway? Maybe he's got it down to a science,
if only he could get the mental help he needs to stay straight, he
could then have a lucrative career in telemarketing. If he can
convince me that he's out of gas and needs to get to
Columbus/ Buffalo/ Atlanta (or anywhere else he's been trying to get in
the 10 years since I first saw him on 7th and Grant trying to get that
elusive gas for his car) then I'm sure he could talk me into the slicer, dicer, peeler, and shredder with the bonus garlic peeler for just $19.99. Then I think, if I would have given him a
dollar then, that would have amounted to 2.9599 with the price of fuel
now.

I'm on Liberty now, passing the skirts and suits when I smell the funk
that could only be described as a urine-soaked jockstrap stewing in a
pot of curry. The man it emanates from confidently struts his stuff
down the street -- He's dead sexy!

Speaking of sexy, some bespectacled guy passes by in rayon/cotton
blend, obviously in need of underwear. He flashes a smile as fake as
his tan and I think to myself..."Hot time, summer in the city..."

Or in the words of Cyndi Lauper:

"The streets are filled
With too many babies
Black air in a sky of blue
People pass by
No life in their eyes
The concrete jungle's
Really going crazy"

1 Comments:

At 8/24/2006 10:00 AM, Blogger honeykbee's whiny, bitch-ass comment is...

way to soak in the moment! Good for you!!

Meanwhile, what makes you think he might have fallen?

 

Post a Comment