20 October 2010

Walking Back

Found Myself walking around town, looking for--something. Some sort of spark...a fillip of something different.

Not My usual mood, but every once in a while, I sort of stop "pushing" and simply...wait. It's as if I had a machine firing thoughts and ideas 24/7 and then, for an afternoon or so, it hits "Pause." And so I walked.

As has been the case since about 2003, the streets were half-mangled, half-chewed up and half-fixed. Takes serious talent and chutzpah to consistently screw up public projects to the extent that the sidewalk I was walking on was in its seventh iteration as a "beautification project" in seven years. There are parts of the town that have been dug up so many times that the latest wrinkle is that they have to be dug up again to "shore up" the gaps made from previous works. Idiocy.

I overheard a woman saying she was tired, absolutely tired, of seeing the "Kissy-Face" video on the local show that a craven coward enjoys high ratings for. The woman went on and on about how the video was just stupid and that if that man (referring to the shit-headed Fool Jorge "She Wasn't Interviewing Me, I Was Trying to Get a Chance to Fuck Her" Navarro) tried that with her, she would slap him, hard. I looked at the woman: I wish Lying Kissy-Face would try to the same maneuver with this woman so I could slap him for being stupid, disgusting and blind.

School let out. Dozens of students in Brownian motion. About a hundred feet away, a car revs its engine, rap music blaring so hard from it that the car next to Me feels like its vibrating. The car tears down the street, tires squealing and slashes around a corner. A Municipal policeman on a motorbike watches as the car zips away. I use body language to ask him "What the hell?" at his non-response. He shrugged back and puttered away.

There's a policeman making rounds now in town. An older cop, late 40s, early 50s. Looks stern. I tell him about the car/cop incident and he snaps a quick response: "Those guys (Municipal policemen) aren't cops. They're lazy bullies." I point out that's what some people might say about the State Police. He literally chews on that for a moment, his face red. He walks away, looking stern.

A group of women are chatting in a gazebo. Apparently the topic is domestic violence, for I hear the names "Farinacci" and "De Castro" tossed about; maybe a "Navarro" as well. I pass by the group and get daggers stared at Me. Great. I hope those three guys die next Tuesday of dick rot.

I don't expect anything at this point. This isn't a story where the last paragraph is the epiphany that reflects "All's well with your world." There is no epiphany. Only a gentle walk back to Chez Jenius, returning to the mindset that epiphanies aren't found, they must be created. The switch comes off of "Pause," I turn the computer on and get back to work.


The Jenius Has Spoken.

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