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Saturday, July 25, 2009

My Friend Street Lamp


Sometimes I spend hours wandering the streets at night. I'll observe the night owls, think about things, or just listen to the city breath. This town has a shallow breath at night and if you're not listening, you'll miss it. I'm not usually out looking for anything on these late excursions; in fact, my motivation for walking around is often just to avoid doing nothing. What I end up finding, however, is character. I find charm in the streets and alleys of this small city. I find mediocre bands making their debuts in struggling cafes. I find late night magic and D&D tournaments in forgotten comic book stores with names like: The Dragon Keep. I find alleys with old fire escapes that are probably much too dangerous to use. I find temperamental street lamps--I wait underneath so that when the lamp turns back on, it will reveal me and not just an empty street. I find weekend dance parties in cramped living rooms with anxious circles of potential dancers. I find that sprinklings of rain don't just fall, they twirl and dance before a gentle collision with my face (something brought to light by my friend, the street lamp). I think I enjoy rain much more than I used to; I can tell by my walking speed. what once excellerated my pace is now inversely affecting it. It feels so nice against my face that I have an urge to experience it more fully; I start to untie my laces. Shoeless, shirtless, and shameless I walk through the back streets. The sidewalks are polluted with umbrella trees so I position my path in the middle of the road. No cars on these streets; I imagine most people have the prescribed amount of sense...

1 comments:

Shauna Malia said...

Shirtless, shoeless, shameless, eh? Is this another one of your attempts to save money? Wandering in just your shorts so that even if you were tempted to step into one of those struggling cafes, you couldn't because they wouldn't serve you?

Try streaking next time. The adrenaline rush alone would be well worth it. And if you're caught by the cops you can always say you passed out at a party and someone stole your clothes. Think about it.

Side Note: As always, I enjoyed this little writing exercise of yours. You really are a talented kid.