Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Two Walks, Same Day.


Ten AM today and I was leaping down the stairs fueled by goat yogurt, four cups of coffee, and an extremely satisfying journal write. The sky looked like a pool with the pale horizon shallow end and the view above where children dare not stray for fear they will sink into the universe, there was a breeze and I was wearing my flappy green shorts. I was ready to hit it, and hit it hard.
On the way out while crossing a street I noticed that an iron pipe cover had come loose, and feeling warm toward my fellow man I kicked it back into place, barely breaking stride. I thought Yay Me! as I speed walked past all the men and women in ill fitting business suits carrying plastic Publix bag lunches and looking pissed, as we all do when we are going to work and the day is hot.
The walk was fine and so was I. There was no more walking, it was all flying, the people, the birds, the buildings and the cars all a blur and I sang songs under my breath and felt assured that I looked no more crazy than I really am. 
Halfway through my walk and I've already passed the Witch Family House, the Fairy Family House, a former apartment of a friend where I always holler HEY JOE!, the House of Strange Trash (today it is still the matrice set complete with sheets, the other day it was a box of Easter paraphernalia), and the Tree That Grows Out Of the Sidewalk (that knobby bitch always tries to trip me up but I can dodge and feint with the best of them). Now is the Big Hill. It's not a very high hill but it is a very long hill, it is the hill that I was never able to run the entire humping length of it at one go before my screaming bones told me to stop fucking running. I don't even try to run it, I'm in it for endurance not Popeye calves, and so I walk like the hounds of hell are nipping at my heels (but only the walking hounds of hell) and I pretend that I am in a race and I am winning.... until.... Until a crazed mother mockingbird dive-bombs my head and again and Yes Ma'am I am Running! I am running up this motherfucking hill with the now running hounds of hell and the dive bombing mockingbird from hell and I am doing those crazy arm whipping motions around my ducked head thinking Not the eyes! Please God don't go for my eyes! and now I am at the top of the hill! I am fucking Iron Man!
        Now the coffee has worn off but the adrenalin is full free flowing, I round the bend, I pass the German Lady House, I pass the Italian Man House, I pass the What-the-fuck-someone-painted-two-fucking-knights-of-the-round-table-on-the-wall House, I can't be stopped, I won't slow down, it feels too good. I get to the Korean War Memorial and do my soft shoe flim-flam shuffle that firms my abs and plumps my butt up the curvy path and down the curvy path, faster than I've ever done it before, an old man watches- his mouth open in pure amazement. I am Youth! I am Vigor! And then as I am crossing the street that leads to my street and almost home I bust my toe on that same damn iron pipe cover that I kicked back into place not an hour before. Foreshadowing people, powerful stuff. I almost go ass over tea kettle but I'm crossing a damn street and if there is one thing I will not do it is fall down in the middle of the road.
Shake it off, Slugger I tell myself, channeling Shoeless Joe Jackson I pull out of my stumble and go for home. It's not wrong to finish strong I tell myself The toe's not broke if you can still kick ass.
Post protein shake and shower, the busted toe and murderous mockingbirds aside, it seems like a good idea to walk to the library. This is a chillin' walk, a saunter in my summer skirt with the lace at the hem that kicks out over my tanned (ahem) calves and flip-flop clad feet. It's hot but it feels good, which is pointed out to me by another old man, this one on a ladder painting a house. We agree we live in Florida, we agree we like the heat, we grin thinking about all those suckers who live in northern climes, we bid good day.
The library is there in all it's bookly glory. The librarians are ornery, the homeless men are grunting craziness, the children load their mothers up and dash away to get more books already forgetting the ones in arms. I got two talkies and three fat eye-reading novels full of potential. I am as satisfied and excited as a dog with an unwatched cake. 
On the way home two girls in a white Camero honk an air horn at me, laugh hysterically, and then honk at a guy on a bike who swerves into the next lane and narrowly misses getting creamed by oncoming traffic. The girls laugh again and speed up.  But guess what ladies! There is a red light up ahead and I AM PISSED. Gone is my sunny day and disposition. Gone is my warm regard for fellow man. In two seconds I am standing by their car.
Roll down your window. I shout at the glass.
No!  Screams the girl, looking at her companion.
Roll down your fucking window! I say, my words and eyes steel.
      They do. They comply. The girls are at the most 17 and pretty. They squint their doe eyes at me, looking up through matching curtains of over highlighted hair. I pull out my cell phone.
I am calling the cops. I have your licence plate number and I am calling the cops right now. It is illegal to blow an air horn out of your car in traffic. You could've killed that dude.
Bitch. Says the girl in the passenger seat.
You're a bitch. That guy could've died.
     The window goes back up at the same time the light turns green. They speed away. I put the cell phone back in my pocket and walk on down the road. As the light works its way back into my eyes and the blood drains from my face I see a stair car driving down the street and I stop to watch thinking about that show Arrested Development and I realize I am smiling. It's a good day to be alive my friends, a very good day indeed. 
                                                                                 

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17 comments:

SJ said...

Wow, May. Just wow. What a day, and what a way you've managed to write about it.

Ms. Moon said...

Oh my Jesus, God.
I am humbled at the feet of your writing. I am lost in the love of my heart for you.
Oh May!

May said...

SJ-Thank you, Lovely Lady! I so wanted to get these happenings down but I wasn't sure how it would all come out. I banged it out as best I could. You make me feel like it worked alright. I always feel good when you stop by.
Mama- You silly woman! I kneel everyday at the feet of your writing. I would wash the feet of your writing with my hair if I thought that it would bring me closer to what you produce! I'm just glad I got one out before you left. Next-chickens? I love you endlessly.

Elizabeth said...

Wonderful Mrs.Dalloway-like prose. And I was thinking of you turning that into a short story or something and the man who had been startled, almost to his death, is your one true love.

I'm new to you blog -- through your mother's fabulous one. What a family you must be!

May said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
May said...

Elizabeth- Thank you for stopping by! Here's a guilty secret- I've never read any Virginia Woolf! I read a biography about her years ago but never her actual work. You've shamed (inspired) me to put Mrs.Dalloway on my to-read list.
Do you write short stories? I find them so hard. I think blog writing enables my writing laziness. Maybe I'll try. Secretly. Away from the blog.
Thanks again for your sweet words!

Petit fleur said...

Wow. Now my adrenaline is pumping and I haven't done a damn thing but read this post!

Once again I'm speechless except to say you have a rare talent and I hope you use it every chance you get.

And good for you for giving those little ass hats in training a good "What fer!" I'm proud of you!

xopf PS Please stop over when you are staying at your folks place. We'd love to visit ya'll. Also, Harley likes to roam and look at the chicks and goaks, so don't worry if you see figures wandering about the place in the afternoon... it's just us. :-)

Sarcastic Bastard said...

May,
I loved reading this post, and I greatly admire your unique metaphors and your strategic use of the word motherfucker. Well done!

Sorry about your toe. That sucks. No good deed goes unpunished, right?

Much love,

SB

May said...

Petite Fleur- thanks for reading! I'll walk so you don't have to. Oh, and you and Harley come on over and see those chickens anytime! I'm sure they'll be lonely without Mama's special care. I don't know them all by name yet.

May said...

SB,
So glad you stopped by! Yay! Praise from SB! Thank you for liking my post. I do love to say motherfucker. I think I said it when I clobbered my toe. The toe, by the way, is going to make it. Thanks for your concern.
love and kisses,
May

downtown guy said...

How is the toe? Did the nail fall off?

Lady Lemon said...

Lovely post. Good for you giving those bitches a piece of your mind.

Also, what the hell is goat yogurt?

gingermagnolia said...

What a day! Was George Michael driving the stair car?

You've never read Mrs. Dalloway? I had to read it for school a couple of semesters ago, and found it very enjoyable.

John said...

What is a stair car?

honeyluna said...

"I am Youth! I am Vigor!"

You are so freaking awesome. This is so much better than most anything I have read in and out of the classroom.

Those were some awesome walking tales. Did a mocking bird really attack you? That was like a scene from Birds, although I have never actually seen that Hitchcock film, I can only image.

May said...

DTG- no, the nail did not fall off, but it looks like someone gave my toe a black eye. Now my toe thinks it is tough and it's trying to push the other toes around but they are having none of it.

Lady Lemon- Thank you! And yeah, I have never wanted to punch a bitch so badly before, but as I am not exactly skilled in fighting (or anything that requires hand/eye coordination) I would probably have embarrassed myself by missing and hitting her seat or the edge of the window or something. Verbal assault! Tongue lashing! I'm a mouth ninja!
Oh, goat yogurt is yogurt made from goat milk. The first time I tried it I was like "What is in my mouth?" and then I kept eating it and now I love it. It has a yang to it that cow yogurt doesn't have.

Gingermagnolia- Ha Ha! No, George Micheal was not driving the stair car but you can bet your sweet ass I checked.
I'm definitely going to pick up Mrs. Dalloway next time I re-up at the library. That's one thing I miss about school- left to my own devices I read a lot of randomness and unmemorables.

John- Thanks for stopping by! Your profile is very minimalist. Do I know you? Anyway, a stair car is a car with a stair built into it, to drive up to airplanes and the like. I'll post a picture. It was practically a character on the show Arrested Development (which was a hilarious show and you can watch it on hulu).

HoneyLuna- Thank you sweet girl! Yes, it was like Birds. Except it was only one bird and not a zillion. You should see that movie, it was really good. No, the bird reminded me of when we lived on Short Street and the mocking birds used to dive bomb Bob the cat. Once they hit him so hard he flew up in the air, I shit you not.

downtown guy said...

I saw a cat get dive bombed by a mockingbird just last night. Ran like a, you should excuse the expression, scared cat!