1435 Continues
As I enter an apparently sex-less and seriousness-laden phase of life, my neighbors Red and DJ Green Thumb prove to be my ties to raves of old and 3AM cartoon network. And I made out with another guy “in the building”. Oops
And so life rages on.
February too depressed to write, March – too busy.
Happy April Fools Day.
Another City Beat article due in four days, a script to memorize by Sunday at five. Opening day hits this strange city on Monday, where the Reds fans will flock to Fifth and Vine to ultimately overwhelm the fabulous four waitstaff. I’ll be there 9AM to 8PM, flaunting a shirt with the #8 and the name Kearns. Is baseball a few steps up from Nascar? Then rehearsal from 8:30PM to 11. Hopefully, my puppetry article will have reached my editors desk by Sunday.
I sit buried under a mess of papers, clothing and knickknacks, already askew from haphazard, whirlwind visits to the apartment between gigs but made exponentially more chaotic by the wind swirling past my burgundy curtains.
Stumbling upon a broken artifact - a relic of one of my past lives - I give an amused “humpf”. Moments later through the door I hear “what cha doin?”
I pull the door open to find Red sitting in a camping chair placed directly in front of my studio. He’s wearing his torn, tattered and worn too thin terry cloth robe, long red hair piled up into a messy bun, peering over his wire frames at the book in his hand, sipping a cup of hot tea. He raises his eyebrows - inquisition directed at me with a quick glance, then smugly returns to his book.
Please take a moment to envision such a greeting outside your front door.
An impromptu roof top barbecue with the neighbors at sunset prohibited me from being sufficiently productive on my one day off. The sunset and ethereal moonrise proved more than worth it. But most notable, was the love.
Nuzzling between blankets, bearing the chill simply to enjoy each other as the city we all love changed its old jeans rapidly to evening wear before our eyes. Laughter ensued as we danced off the week prior, yielding to a more tender moment, as life hit some hard and we lament the vacant atrocities of the neighborhood and conjure schemes of what it could and should be.
And we sat in silence.
Comfortable content. All agreeing – this is exactly what we each needed.
And so life rages on.
February too depressed to write, March – too busy.
Happy April Fools Day.
Another City Beat article due in four days, a script to memorize by Sunday at five. Opening day hits this strange city on Monday, where the Reds fans will flock to Fifth and Vine to ultimately overwhelm the fabulous four waitstaff. I’ll be there 9AM to 8PM, flaunting a shirt with the #8 and the name Kearns. Is baseball a few steps up from Nascar? Then rehearsal from 8:30PM to 11. Hopefully, my puppetry article will have reached my editors desk by Sunday.
I sit buried under a mess of papers, clothing and knickknacks, already askew from haphazard, whirlwind visits to the apartment between gigs but made exponentially more chaotic by the wind swirling past my burgundy curtains.
Stumbling upon a broken artifact - a relic of one of my past lives - I give an amused “humpf”. Moments later through the door I hear “what cha doin?”
I pull the door open to find Red sitting in a camping chair placed directly in front of my studio. He’s wearing his torn, tattered and worn too thin terry cloth robe, long red hair piled up into a messy bun, peering over his wire frames at the book in his hand, sipping a cup of hot tea. He raises his eyebrows - inquisition directed at me with a quick glance, then smugly returns to his book.
Please take a moment to envision such a greeting outside your front door.
An impromptu roof top barbecue with the neighbors at sunset prohibited me from being sufficiently productive on my one day off. The sunset and ethereal moonrise proved more than worth it. But most notable, was the love.
Nuzzling between blankets, bearing the chill simply to enjoy each other as the city we all love changed its old jeans rapidly to evening wear before our eyes. Laughter ensued as we danced off the week prior, yielding to a more tender moment, as life hit some hard and we lament the vacant atrocities of the neighborhood and conjure schemes of what it could and should be.
And we sat in silence.
Comfortable content. All agreeing – this is exactly what we each needed.
posted by Lindsay at 12:44 PM
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