week one, sitting outside an empty cafe on an empty street in downtown
yesterday might be considered, or its my opinion, that was a day zero, when that shift you felt subtly now catpaults you into 'the event'. in the past it was hurricanes, the earthquake of '89, relatives dying, but now it's a first day of an unexpected chapter we hadn't seen indexed in the preface of life. so yesterday was when most businesses had to shut down except for places that feed you, and even then, get it and run. i hadn't slept well in the 3 nights prior, tossing about the entire night, and the velvet cloak of melatonin i save for 'too much thought while horizontal' didn't shield my thoughts from myself. the 'what abouts' coming into my head at night was like popcorn in the microwave at level 3, so one pop every few minutes and the bags never done.
every day for the past two weeks, i have tried to notice all the little nuances of how things progress. the first day people looked noticably bothered when someone around them coughed. the first day people got pissed and verbally accusatory when someone sneezed. the first day people walked a small curve whilst walking by others. the first day you know everyones scanning everyone else near them, sizing up their 'flu potential'. not events that are laws or suggestions by science, just our own devices.
every night i have been taking a walk 5 blocks to the waterfront, seeing how the citys been progessing in degression, and i don't even know if degressions a word. this is the height of the season in sunny florida seaside, but now it feels like an abandoned hollywood scenestage. 3 nights ago, the equal amount of homeless to 'curiousity-seekers' was on the block, with occasional restaurant workers flitting about nervously. 2 nights ago, by 10pm i was the only person i recognized on the street, which reminded me of hurricane times here, and is such a neat creepy feeling. just as with hurricanes, there was only the homeless milling about, and small groupings of young kids i don't recognize, who gather near the streetlamps and offer pot, acid, and ecstascy to rare passersby, and they are pretty gakked up themselves. seems like in times of crisis there must be a run on drugs just as with tiolet paper. the homeless have become a tad more aggressive for food and money, and the ones who normally go about in pirouettes whispering to their designated ghosts and twins, those i can finally hear as its so quiet. most of them over the decades here whisper, or scream at the top of their lungs, at what seems to be memories of a shitty parent, or else they wrestle schizophrenically with 'The Man'. as much as some of them might annoy me here with their insistence and abrasiveness, i get a heartskipbeat when i think of the millions of them in the next few months, for just as with illegals and tens of millions of souls hid from the radar of our government, where are they going to find compassion should hospitals be filled with 'the registered working class'.
when i start a thought, i try to finish out all the possible scenes, threading apart the reality ones from the 'creative' scenarios. this seems fairly new for the world as one, so i can't really think to turn to some certain person i think has the past credentials to help me think my own possible plays out. there are the known knowns, the known unknowns, and the unknown unknowns, and we worry about the unknown unknowns' that asshole rumsfeld once said, but i did like his statement, because in the end its the unknown unknowns for all of us that cause anxiety and fear. it is not even the physical aspect of this but the economic, because with money in hand people can remain calm, but surely something about a growling stomach will break a mans normal ethics. so perhaps everything will shut down, but keep the people fed. well, fed and healthy, and that's the tricky part here, it isn't a hurricane coming for 2 days, but we are the hurricane, each of us a cloud, and we must stay apart for 2 months. i think of all those relationships that are held together by thin webs, by obligations of children and debts, and they only remain together because they know they work for 10 hours a day, they sleep for 8 hours a day, so they only deal with their mate 6 hours a day so it's bearable. but now they will be glued together for weeks, so i fear domestic calls for police will increase, even as their busy doing other things. i overheard a policeman last night saying how they were going to be tied up in hospital calls, and the national guard would be tied up at the fairgrounds when a makeshift hospital is set up there and other places, and how then the army would be here to actually manage the streets. so it seemed fairly bleak in his outlook, which tamped down my own hopes of outcome.
the police last night as i walked to the waterfront, some blocks completely empty as of last night, except for cops. the cops would just glare at me as i passed, wanting to give the obvious 'why the fuck are you out' furrowed brow. for now they cannot say anything though, but they want you to feel it, but we both know it's coming, and that is why i want to be out now as much as possible.
so now, on morning of day two, i awoke at 7am and made myself a proxy coffee, and went to sit out front of the cafe. i did seem to be a amsterdam tease here though, enticing cars driving by to slow down, possibly turn back around, and then as i sit here with laptop and coffee, the corner of my eye sees their window roll down and 'excuse me, are they open?'. oddly, the cars in a row have been bmw, mercedes, porsche, bmw, audi, bentley, mercedes. apparently precrisis caffeine doesn't include the ever-reliable toyota or honda. everything is a statistic, so i am in realtime mode of charting all the columns of this event. whats increasing, whats decreasing, whats never happened before and whats gone away till time unforeseen.
the only cars on the block are 3 and those are just employees doing last minute tasks in their closed shops. i just sat here stunned, as in enough to stand up and move to the curb, and watched a parkingticket monster spit an orange issuance onto one of the cars windshields for not paying the meter. it bummed me out and i wanted the guy to see my disgusted face though i dunno who owns the car. that's disgusting but then again i find nothing lower in profession than a ticket taker, because in any profession we do sometimes make ethical personal decisions to not penalize someone but whew, those people are horrid. so the local government has decided giving parking tickets to an empty street in an emergency is essential, how are they essential for us in a positive way right now giving fines.
at 9am it is mid 70s, some parrots squawk around the powerstation across the street, as with anything now, because there are few cars or people, sounds of life normally drowned out have now bobbed to the top, so helps create the whole ambience of 'the event'. should be no change of smells during this future unknown, maybe less pollution, thus more ocean air reaches me, and i do hope there is no smell of burning torches in the weeks or months to come. still every few minutes someone drives or walks past and asks if they're open. i feel like i should just bring my camping coffeemaker from home and set up shop making them for passersby looking for that fix. is lack of coffee going to mold a world of madness, whats tomorrows tiolet paper and where can i invest.
i have allergies, constant postnasal drip, always sniffing, so what im basically saying is i fear for my life in public as of today. i would rather my sinuses drain from nose to lip and ill sip it rather than wipe my nose with kleenex. i wonder if at some point i will see people with masks, and since by now we know it means those people have it, if we will walk wide circles around them or cross the street. when i think of blue surgical masks i think of japanese subway scenes based on my years of conditioning, but now we will see them personally as 'the mark'. i also wonder if i should just get it so i can get over it and then move on from anxieties i may have, plus the hospital gettin' is good right now but won't be for long, but then thats cancelled out by 'yea but if you get it then you could give it to others'.
i am not going to stress to the point of a breakdown, just high blood presusre, in paying rent. i am going to give as much as i can over these months and work small projects where i can, if anything because i don't want future debts to pile up. for food, i think i have things covered since most things i purchase that are 'consumable' possessions i buy in bulk. as far as material possessions go, things are good, though living on the main street of a county of almost 2 million people i wonder about the safety of my possessions. people in need know if they get too needy there's a downtown full of empty businesses of which i live within, so i 'might' form a secondary plan of leaving downtown should things rachet up to a degree i am not going to think about now, only to plant that single thought on a far high shelf 'in case need be, what carload of goods would you take from your apartment'. again, thats the furthest extreme and a 0.001% chance for now of 'havoc mayhem, plan z'.
i hear the train so detailed for the first time, ah i can pretend i am in zurich the way it echos so much i don't understand her yet its so clear but awash in raquetball reverb. i can almost hear the breeze rustle through my arm hairs.
security guys in black and scuba neon yellow suits go by in their puttputt carts, leaves blow down the sidewalk unimpeded by feet, old couples let tiny dogs piss on large trees. there's a new homeless guy who i believe is in character, i think he is doing his interpretation of tom hanks in the islans, 'Stuck' or whatever it's called. i want to find him a volleyball to mill about with, and draw constantines head on said ball with a gold sharpie. this vagrant looks so sincere like he could've been anyones kindly Priest McEntyre. he has a little makeshift library he has created in a planter, filled with random scraps of newsletters, menus, and soiled paperbacks, and he will grab some after persusing them as if seeing them for the first time, every time. he will then carry them so happily down the street, and i do mean the street not the sidewalk, and he shuf-shuf-shuffles along, baby steps, whispering to himself with one arm cradling his everchild books and the other arm doing orchestrals in the air, conducting the musical business of clouds. he is adorable, well, for now....until he yells at me for pinching him in 3rd grade, or taking away his oatmeal in 4th. sometimes is best not to talk to someone but to keep your imagination of them on your wall. at least he has crazy-smiling wrinkles and not fuckyou-frown ones.
i now see some cops/fire dept guys pull up in their vehicles, and i am sad they will soon discover this cafe isn't open. jesus you know your 50 years old when that makes you tear up a little. they are now peering in the window, to see its closed, they try the door. i am sad the guys who might become our hometown version of 911 first responders cannot get some coffee, now ill be bummed for a couple minutes as my mind moves on to other blips of this timeline. the firetruck now drives away, in search of a warm cup of rescue. i have never heard the parrots for so long on clematis, its been over an hour now of their conference atop the powerlines. do they come with a message of hope, or are they just pooping on the transformers that will ultimately short downtown causing us to fall into inkblack chaos. it has just approached 10am on day one of the afterlife, or whatever this phase will be called in decades ahead.
for the past week , every day they did a decent job to throttle us down, so it was not a big leap. i try to keep abreast of things progressing at my block level, at my citys level, at my countys and state levels, and nationally, so daily i read news of each slice of the onion. the president, well, you know, as with any man in any times, our greatest task of life, not of life but of human life, is to love others and that means taking the hit quite often. hitting your head on the wall with repetitions, giving love and compassion when yes you will not be given any in return with most people. the president tests me, just as some on this street can test me, but that's what they are there for, without tests there is no success.
so i am sitting in just about the same spot i sat in back in the early/mid 90s, which is a bit creepy. back then this spot was a parking lot, and i would sit in my friends car whilst they all went into respectables club, which was just about all that was open on the block at night. i would sit in in a back seat, and using the streetlight i would have my notebook and just writewritewrite poems and thoughts filling dozens of notebooks, most of which i either threw away or got lost, thought i still have a few left. so here almost 30 years later i am in the same spot, but time has carved new rivulets in my surroundings. it is no longer a pitted brokenbottled shellrock/asphalt parking lot but a massive generic 5 story parking garage with a cafe in its base, and this is where i sit along the sidewalk of the closed cafe. if things had not changed so quick in the past decades here i might feel depressed as though 'here i still am', but things move along enough in downtown west palm to feel like i am in a little shoebox going down the river like milo and otis. i have seen progress from this view, so i don't mind the perch.
the breakdown of people is either homeless, someone walking a dog, someone wanting coffee, and govt-related workers of security, health, or construction. occasionally a couple walking with minibackpacks and sandals, and all conversations revolving around their circles of life during this line in the sand. i see bj, our resident homeless mascot homeless by choice, is at his usual spot on the bench at the center of the block. he has been on this block, wow, longer than i have i think, and he is perfectly content with sitting right 'there', reading some 800page weary paperback, nodding hello to passersby. i think i have him written down even in my early 90s writings here, so anything i should write about him now, it shouldn'tve changed much, for there he still is, and here i still am.
it is 11am, a man and his possibly 4yo boy are both dressed in khaki shorts and cat in the hat shirts red and white striped, they both matched so cutely and completely, and i just smilled as i watched them pass right now, and the little boy right passing my knee looked up at me which apparently is his hair trigger to sneeze, and release those spores which now are on my knee and will probably work their way up my thigh and ultimately my face like microscopic fuzzy kittens, seeing my nostril as a cozy katsak. someone also whilst talking to me just directly sneezed into the ether, not making any attempt to cover their nose, and they paused after that sneeze, and before i could even give them Gods blessing, they doubled the stakes and snotted again right at me and sniffled. i was shell-shocked, or maybe i was just feigning it to myself, a self-indignant indignancy, like double indignant; i just didn't care for now.
for now. that's how i live life right now, from daily to minute-by-minute, my mantra is for now. so whatever i tell you i can only end that sentence with for now. it's all i have to offer. for now, for this minute, i am awaiting fedex to fuck up my 50+ pound of health supplies for a second day in a row. hey, fedex, i was even sitting outside all day yesterday yet you still managed to mark my package as undeliverable. i called them and spoke to someone for over a 30 minutes, who took my information, and they said to expect a call back shortly for them to deliver it, so i would wait yet again, and they never came nor called. i call it 'The Fedex Usual'; they did this same crap multiple times last year. oh but i digress dear, i digress! i do await them now though, outside, one eye on the street one on laptop, one ear listening to the beatles and one ear listening for that distinct 'im a box truck' gravel. a train passes right now, and the weather is so cool right now that it is a crisper sound than warmer days, i hear the tinny tones like a granny apple crunch.
the trolley still persists, and i am gratful they are still running it, because i have seen it about empty for what is turning into days now. i do hope to go aboard, maybe the one that goes to the mall thats now closed, just so i can walk around a closed outdoor mall and imagine its REALLY empty because <insert your greatest fear here>. there is a whole foods there too which i think would be open. i wonder how that would be to trolleyon over there and watch people challenge others to a match of indian wrist burn over a frozen bag of tumeric-fried lentils. i want to do the exact wrong thing in the worlds most testing time since the world wars; i want to be outside while others pass by. i want to see how the upper class a half mile from me in palm beach react, how the downtown middle class here reacts, and how those in poverty starting from 1 block of me will handle this. i'd imagine any unrest would come from the poverty class, for obvious reasons of starvation leads to not the want of food but the need for it. i hope to bike as well daily, over to the island, sit outside the publix there and peoplewatch, that's been a great spot to just nod-and-smile with a box of yet-another-flavor-of-cheezits-i-didnt-know-existed and one of those watermelon crystal packets doused in a bottle of water. i went through that publix daily to see what sells out and what doesn't, and i stand in front of a completely empty meat area, except for that one package of chicken parts, and spend minutes pondering exactly why the karma of that chicken led to it being the only one noone wants to take home to mother.
the morning little birds have come to the tree and sidewalk in a chirpchirpchirpy way, the splatter of sunlight throught he trees randomy illuminates them like they are basking in an impromptu disco, a starlight ball which twirls above them casting down golden flax to harden those beaks and soften those feathers. chirpy bird looks at me, but i've only coffee and ink under my nails which came from an exploding pen, which i think combusted just from my stress when i grabbed it. i have been on hold with fedex for 40 minutes now, and their terrible loop is on a 15 second replay. this wold never even qualify as a part of some full song, its just terrible foley of some horrible rendition of the original mario-hops-on-frogs game with some other guy playing a horrible jazzy riff on electric guitar, aaaaand repeat for the 5000th time, with the woman telling me shortly i will be hung up on, well, she actually promises me roses, someone to pick up, but in reality fedex must have a self-arming dump buttong, that at any given time while on hold, their ai gives a heaty fuck you to you and yours in this time of need. why don't these automated systems ask you from the start 'ok since you'll be hanging around for awhile, press 1 for 80s jingles, press 2 for 90s jangles, press 3 for 70s muzak' etc, this way i can be snapping my fingers and tapping my toes while this now just broke an hour on hold.
pretty eventless on the street, nothing to grab my attention. i sip, i wait on hold, i am. i had stopped writing about actual events decades ago, because there will always existed an issue. i think of when i read kerouac-era writings from various authors, as they had written about real life around them with friends and associates, and the issue is how much are you going to write about someone real, and yet know they are going to read it. so then you are only going to write about the rosy side of peoples, or just not mention people altogether. you can't really write about the life about you in fullness, unless you really do live by the sword. i live by the spork.
right now as i sit out front here, with nary a fedex truck in sight, fedex just updated via their website 'package undeliverable'. they show now tuesday delivery. i want to rip their hair out and wigs off. i actually sit outside for two days waiting for them by the door, and call them, and still they mess this up as usual. i won't let it ruin my apocalypse though, don't you worry.
i try to compare this to incoming and outgoing hurricanes, again though it is tricky because instead of everyone coming together after tragedy, everyone must remain apart to avoid a tragedy. ok though but i'm fine with 6 feet don't make me stay in my cage, i have too much tiolet paper in there and im claustrophobic.
fedex just disconnected on me after 70 minutes, you know, that call on hold where a fedex truck marked my package as undeliverable while on hold, all the while i sat outside awaiting him. you. stink.
i found it fascinating that marijuana shops in california are staying open because it is considered 'an essential' for life in times of national shutdown. neat to see things evolve as you age, but then what things regress after you die, and what went so wrong that it happened. you'd think progress was an absolute truth, but one mans progress is another mans religion, and buddy, it decrees you're on the wrong side. there are now many, too many, pot shops if even just on my block alone, but i guess because it is the start of the market, then competition is good, i just wish the city limited 1 per block.
another fire truck and ambulance pulls over, if just for a coffee, i don't have the heart to tell them so i see them park those things, and group together for coffee, and do the walk to see a dark room behind glass , as if studying jellyfish at the aquarium. then i wonder if i'm a jerk for not just yelling to them so they didn't have to waste 3 minutes, but then who am i to assume where they will be walking to. i hear sneezes in the distance and it's like a bomb in syria 2 blocks away. i cringe. i am so happy they aren't using the word 'hunker' during all of this, i commend the media for not making me want to peel my ears off. i will never hunker, for i am MAN you apes! MAN!
so i am close to 50 now, i have the blood disease hemochromatosis, i do not know if that makes it worse or better, well, can a blood disease be a bent into a rainbow, it is too much iron in my blood, certainly i can forge something from it though i can't stop the rust.
checking the news, not too much, i mean, consdering the past 2 weeks it is not much, ny broke 10k sick just announced, and the possibility of a national lockdown mentioned by trump. those sort of not-too-muchs, nothing unsettling of the moment, just future possibilities, one tick of this long tickettape of them, streaming onto the floor at a rate of an unspooling movie reel with no time to separate the frames. 'you know the potheads, they get anxious, they gotta get high' says a father to his tween daughter when passing the storefront near me. i hear bikes go by, and i shouldn't be hearing them, they should be properly lubed and adjusted, not sounding like a hair-scissory competition in venice. it has been hours but not really seeing anyone im much familiar with here. must be sightsee'ers or those who want to stretch those thighs before strapped down for a couple weeks to bed and sofa then back again.
a group of 4 bikes come by and now that seems like a crowd, like theres some form of scoring convention, where i just saw a 'fourer' before you, and now i get to bruise your forearm with my knuckles. don't move.
last night at the waterfront it was so empty i just wanted to yell 'brains!' with a craven deep hunger so loud i'd break my throat. this is about the time it is as real or surreal as you care it to be, as you make it to be, for you want it to be. there is a homeless woman here all morning, now day, and she has the long grey scraggly hair and bags of random goods needed and needless, and i wonder about homeless females, and that they should be somehow taken away to a safe space. homeless guys can tough it out, but i dunno, homeless females get to me way more than males, because it's a constant battle out there, and usually within too. i wonder if they will shut off the island which maintains my chosen publix. my heart would break, i need 108 flavors of icecream, not the paltry 34 flavors the publix 2 blocks away offers. i wonder about my local produce stands and i hope when i finally drive off to get goods they have stock, as well as ollies, the place that won my heart over last month, since big lots has only gone downhill to a dollarstore for 2 decades. long live ollies and their 75% off rack. oh the joy when i last went and the lady was placing new junk food on that blesse shelf. i took about all the oreos she had, full packs for 35 cents, mind you. those 2 pounds of yorks for $3.50? gone in two days. freezer-to-mouth. i'm ready for the prophecy now, oh freeze and breeze of menthol.
i feel like i'm trying to begin writing a few days into a road trip, i should've begun this a week ago, when i had more things to notate. i mean, things are so empty now, so there is less going on around me, except for an ambience for meditation and minddrifts. it is easy to stare into the distant nothing and think about the current nothing, after so many days of something. about two dozen people per hour test their skills against a locked door still.
last night some young preacher got atop a minivan and preached of the fall of man, and he was so perfectly befitting of our personal onstage 'there will be blood' that he enchanted me, surely, if i wasn't a christian in my past, i would certain consider it an option for the future. he was moving about like a rickety 1860s man selling 'Arsenic Gold' to heal yer creaky bones, and he had a loudspeaker in the van, so it filled the static air with a fluency of fire and aural embers, burning in high trebles and crackling midtones. i only came closer in case he was throwing out candy with those widearmed motions, someting minty, something chocolaty, yes, frozen yorks my friend. he offered no sugar, only matchsticks, and some people lit from his strike, coming up to the minivan and trying to barter philospohies with him, but he would not have it, you are indeed going to hell in his ordained handbasket, and it is The Virus which are the wheels to your uber chariot. he matched the time, place, event of the moment so much i got shivers like a kitten crossing from one shoulder to another via the back of my neck. i do hope he returns each evening with a new rendition of the fact i'm toast. there is something about dedication in what you believe no matter it's direction, which fascinates me about others. why we all do what we do, and how it all works out for us in the end as a whole, in spite of us, because of us.
i am gg, it is the year 2020. i stand in the countys main street on a saturday night, empty, sans a preacher echoing death of the plague and homeless aimlessly about like pinballs and bumpers, with sirens echoing in two directions. allthewhile methinks What Would Kylie Do?
now that it is afternoon, those who came downtown for a looksee don't come around, about 1-2 people per 5 minutes pass by. seen no cops on the feet beat though, thought there would be an increase but actually a decrease, hmmm maybe they are meeting and planning. there are people on the trolleys now, though they sit at the furthest corners form one another. at this point most people are with those who they will be chained together with, or so i hope. i always thought all road/camping trips i took with people, that that was the best way to know someone to their depths (minus psychedelics), but ahh, this could be equivalent, and my apartment is about the size of a giant tent. i hope people not only know how to grow their own food, but also their own happiness. those who are constantly seeking it, thats the true starvation going on starting now, those who need attention, those who must shop, must consume, must keep moving without settling always wanting the next bauble of a dedadent life, they are going to not point to their bellies, but to their hearts, and plead hunger.
only now because i think about it, i've seen no planes. i wonder if trump will come down here at this point during this event. i say event because i dont even know in the end which event will be talked about post-event. the birds are coming closer for crumbs, perhaps they keep a crystal ball in the nest above me. isn't there some animal that runs in some direction, makes some sort of noise, or burrows deep into logs, when an event like this is over our shoulders. can i read anything in the trees, the breeze, the skies. is there any foreboding symbolism by anything in nature outside of the human webbing. these birds would be here with or without us all, just pulling up worms instead of grubbing for crumbs. you hollow-boned bums! get a nest! i'm wondering where my next bottle of truffle oil is going to be sourced from and you're down there bantering about crust. ugh, selfish nature!
after 1pm and not a one conversation with anyone. i just watched two feverishly fight over what was not even a crumb but a cig butt, they bit at each other and physically tussled. i hope this fury of baby bluebirds is not a sign of the times to come. i ponder what do i want to do at this moment, continue sitting here through the afternoon, or go bike to the beach and publix. i certainly am not going to try and shop on a saturday before a possible lockdown, i'm not a fan of long lines, i'd rather stare at empty shelves and no lines apparently. no, food will be fine during this, i fear no shortages for myself. over 30 pounds of protein isolate alone in my closet, a freezer full of frozen bananas to blend with, and enough supplement powders to make 7 supermans.
the president is doing his daily briefing now, so i switch from the beatles to my Main Man. i know he is going to give the rosiest, best case scenario, as opposed to possible negative ones being proposed out there, so i will notate the best and worst from everyone and see how and who tends to be 'most rightest'. numbers are still low enough for me, and moving at a linear, non-logarhytmic/exponential numbers just yet. so i am comfortable with being out and about, until the number infected in my county reaches 10,000 sick, or someone i know knows someone whos sick. then it is 1 degree of separation and time to move up my scale of being careful.
... ok it is now 615pm and the sun is about to be in its phase of setting, i have returned, and the chairs are in the exact same arrangement as many hours ago, noone has perverted my stoop. perfect breeze and temp, perfect blue sky with an edging gold horizontal glow getting inflammed, and it is still quiet, serene, and most importantly, sterile. there are new homeless i have never seen before, there is a couple who somehow scavenged the darkest edges of society and scooped up two milkshakes in clear plastic cups, replete with whipped topping and a nasty artifial maraschino cherry, or however you spell it, i wouldn't give a maraschinos cherry the time of day much less a proper spelling. regardless of my dispute with red chemicals, i was amazed at their blantant display of happiness in times as these, downing two milkshakes arm in arm, and, and, is that a PLASTIC straw with a barbershop swirl motif, staked center down into the whippedcream? they are now the first what we call 'normals' in this New Age, that come and sit down at the cafe at einsteins monochromed sandals. couples are about the biggest crowds today, the ones who've elected the other one 'The Chosen', to be nailing plywood to the windows together, but this time from the inside.
its a bit more upbeat though not more crowded, but with every sunset come out the sunset frolickers, whether for exercise or for the view. i would say it is sparse enough, with such a low level of security around, that i wrap my bag around the base of my chair, should someone try to grab and run with my hidden-within stash of ginger candies. i have bob marley playing this time instead of the beatles on my speaker, though i do these days forward through 2 or 3 songs because they have been so played out elsewhere than my music source. right now there is zero people on the 500 block at 638pm, just these two having a milkshake party, and way down on the far end of the block i see a gaggle of security guards at a food-shack-on-the-corner type place that serves quick food to go. it's the only place on the block open except for a pizza place, its own neon letting you know it is an ash amongst the ruins, something you can start your fire with in this Dark Age, somewhere you can be protected from The Infection for those precious moments while you stumble placing an order and wait in the corner, cringing, dreading the moment they peel your pizza into its cardboard mausoleum and ask you to please go back into The Myst, from whence you came, and consume your slice at a safe distance from its creator.
still people ask if the cafe is open, and i wonder if i should write a fat CLOSED on paper so people can see it safely within the cage of their own cars, and it saves me the repetition of alerting people i am here if only to shatter their dreams. the sun now casts everythings left hand in gold, and the final few minutes of breezes rush to be by its side. this is the best time to be at the beach, when life gets painterly, when colors and dimensions are spilled within the days lines. most cars now have their lights on. trolleys still pass unaccompanied by customers, 'ghost ships' we call them in The Biz. the time of shadow has expired, and now everything is softer to look at. couples walking by have increased, and they most all have food of sorts with them, their source of inspiration to get out today. the news today is about the same, another 2 people per day are dying in the state, and another 10ish people in the county infected with that number now at 56, and deaths are at 12 for the state. still fairly linear rise so we end this day crouching for another day of missles to pass overhead, none landing within our earshot. i hope to get out tomorrow, sunday, for some shopping. i clipped my nails a few day back, not thinking i may have to use them to secure my place in the cheezit waiting line, after all, an international calamity AND a bogo at publix on cheezits is the perfect recipe for chaos, where every man is left to fend for his own stake of limited edition gorgonzola cheezits shaped like mouseheads.
yet another couple has decided on settling on this desert dessert outpost for a spell, to enjoy their couples-only acai bowls.
it seems safe for this period, and the streetlight now is the main source of light as darkness has accelerated. i am sure i won't be out as late as nights prior, i will either get bored or frightened off. the cafe is dark inside, only the dessert case is lit, and yet people still hold out hope until their grip is on the doorhandle. jupiter is first to poke through as usual, some clouds still pink underbellies from a long set sun, and night two of Partial Shutdown begins. there is so nothing to report that i could gaze inwards quietly until i implode. a walker, a driver, another sip of watermelon-flavored water. this is saturday night. cops have not passed in hours, but bj performs his redd foxx trotwalk over here, sees the cafe is closed, and reverses to his perch. now it is dark, empty, and quiet, which is a tinge of unnerving, so i find myself every few minutes tossing a look over to the traintracks guardguy in the distance to feel 'connected'. a mosquito just connected with a vein in my arm, even in this breeze. gives me something to itch about. guys now with glazed over eyes and plodding walks pass, i can't tell if they're rapping or threatening an invisible enemy constantly ahead of them like a fiery carrot. it has now hit 8pm and i think places close because now the ... <beep>
so its sunday, 13 minutes from noon, and i just plopped down at the cafe again. they had taken away the chairs, now just a sparse garden of tabletops, so i grabbed a couple from elsewhere. there is still two benches for use though, as they cannot easily be dragged away, they are wood, giant matchsticks bolted together really, and will be proper fuel for torches of the coming Night Brigaders. since i just sat down noones has passed yet except for two cops in more gear than normal. the 1940s'ish homeless woman is still here, still chain smoking, still curled fingers in a constant struggle against themselves, still talking back to whispers. she has always kept to herself. it is what one would call a spring sunday indeed. i could believe the streets and empty because people are either gathering around crosses or eggs. the first trolley of my eye goes by, empty, reminding me to join its rank and circuit for a spin. ayeaye trolley, i hear you coming, just give me a couple hours to check things out here. two trolleys actually are intersecting their routes in front of me, so they slow down to a stop and chat, gloved hands waving up the street, forms of nodding, agreements are made, they continue on, one into the sun, one to the moon. the two railroad men are there still, orange flags, stooped sitting on some form of supertiny stool inches above the ground. the cafe appears to have people taking supplies out to help elsewhere, where food can be distributed. by now some people have not had jobs for perhaps two weeks, many people one week now, and the rest have fallen by the wayside these past 3 days, unless they have ESSENTIAL in iodine-tinted holy water upon their foreceps. the real rosie the riveter died a couple weeks ago, and things have went to shit since.
two police more pass, or maybe its The Originals from half an hour ago swooping back around. two police trucks pass by together. people, lets see here, i look down the 500 block...empty. noone. sometimes a car will drive up, someone pops out to run into a store they perhaps manage, and they're off again. the easterbunny could streak down this street right now and noone would be there to hear it fall. i decide to play paul simon songs for a bit, that outdoorsy picnicky beat of checkered blankets and a ziplock of cheezits held like a golden chalice up to the suns righthand throne. rhythm of the saints, great album for a setting sun or defining the countenance of clouds whilst lying on your back in grass that sticks through your shirt like tiny plastic forks. i notice the homeless woman has a cafe-logo cup on her being, i believe that is a collectors item by now in this Time of Need, was SHE the final person served before they closed, that would, of course, add extra value to said cup. plus the fact i believe there is an inch of coffee in it. add another 15% of value. pull that thing out in a couple months and amaze your friends, or, well, your cave-partner. we will all dismantle our vocabulary surely within weeks, reducing our communication to The Tribe as only grunts and groans, of slapping yourself or signficant other on the forehead, of pointing at feet and squinting out the window, trembling. my god mr. president, at least let these people go out to get fast food, and thus keep Modern Standard English in the throats of every american.
noone has walked by for many minutes now. even loooking blocks down i see noone just walking for the walk of it. if they are here on this street, they've come to accomplish something and bask in the acronym of geeteeeffohh. gee, its so still now, i can just mindlessly drift off about other little rivulets in an unconcious stream of melting memories. the breeze is a constant 12mph off the ocean, so its about as fresh as it gets, sterile saline air, breathe in, breathe out, work those lungs out, wash those lungs out, enjoy a quiet day on the block as rare as a once a decade mute meteor, with background music all your choosing. listen to your tiny bluetooth speaker echo from across the street, listen to the birds feet stepping on a leaf, listen to the flick of the homeless womans empty bic like the endless tic of a cricket. a woman in her 70s, dressed in some altered form of a pink tennis outfit, just came back and remarked how odd it was to see people out, how there's nowhere to sit outside now and she lives in a condo with nowhere to get fresh air. oh boy, how long can people stand each other without fresh air, no way to sterlize their troubled souls. it's fine now, but i do expect we are each day closer to some decree of 'don't be out unless you are getting food or critical good'. what a bummer. THIS is sorta peaceful but THAT sounds horrid. do i have more than enough things to do as far as personal projects, oh certainly, but these feet get antsy get often to gogogo. today is the day they are making it sound like this could last months, not weeks. i immediately wonder if i cna be grandfathered claused into being able to consider this spot part of my domestic shelter, since i've been at this spot almost 3 decades. i know i can handle time alone, but oof i dunno that much of america can handle that well. so many 'new territories' to explore as we pioneer humanitys evolution and stability thereof.
a stronger breeze now, beautiful really, birds seem happy but only because its not feeding time yet. to the left, to the right, to the left, to the right, i just am searching for differences between the two pictures. everythings still. this is the day noone tries to see if the cafe is open. since homeless is 80% of Humans Who Pass today, i wonder where they will all be moved to when things are closed down, surely they won't be left to wander like bots in a unfinished fps where the main characters were never rendered before the company went bankrupt. how will they take homeless who have the real bad addictions and the real bad mental issues, by force, by sedation, by restraint for months. they are emptying jails of low level criminals so certainly they won't fill them with tranquilized homeless. how do people take their dogs out. how how how how are the owls on both shoulders as i've slept this week. each morning i check to see if my ears are bleeding.
the news now for the hour is that someone under trump said this could last till june, and trump or his peoples usually are the most optimistic on this, so that's unsettling. it reminds me to get to home depot to get those cherry-on-top essentials for ensuring my place is secure from any NightStalkers who test windows and doors for steadfastness. i once half-asleepwalked right into a robber at 430am in the dark and i did not care for it much. another time i caught on near my kitchen, and he had a tomato in his hand and asked if he could just take that so he could feel like he took something. he took it, but also some good shure in-earphones as well. i guess it is time to see whats out there beyond the boundaries, where they keep food in giant structures and its all for sale. i hope to get back out tonight, but i will get to a point where i cannot describe how much more 'emptier' things are when they fall totally empty.
it is now 530pm on sunday, and i have returned 'to the streets', err, well, the street, the block really, just this one, i don't include the rest in my 'lifes events' index. i had returned back up home and hogged down some popcorn, which i found a fantastic new spicemix for at trader joes, so for this one and this only only, pandemic, i humbly salute you. its called 'elota joes' or somesuch, and oh is it tasty yet undescribable exactly, 'cheesy-something' is as far as i'll risk. so spray-tan the popppedcorn with olive oil spray then properly douse with elota joes, and gather around the tv for the latest statistics. so i also had microwaved one of those annie chuns, or one of her neighbors, chili thai noodle bowls, complete with noodles in a bag and sauce in a foil and some crunchies in a tiny bag as your bonus topping. i have alot of these bowls, dozens, just by chance, just by clearance; the better the sale the more i stock up. except oreas. and cheezits. i will eat those as fast as i can pay for them, sometimes i'll run in the store bathroom just to shoot them up while they're still freshly paid for. i ponder making cheezit cookies, i ponder making oreo crackers. a man on a too-dry chain with a bike on it goes by, the silence of the streets i want google-eyed like the Invasion has begun, and they were going for a taste of his eyes.oh, the projects i will roam during this time alone. the street is more busy now, people pass, people sit on benches, people have twin dogs in a twin baby carriage, both dressed in pink ballerina silk with purple bows. these pups are flouting the fact they will avoid the meteors. they dash by but stop to sniff out my feet, i don't reach down for fear of shedding The Cell onto their coats, even if my odds for now are 1 in a million, i'll still keep a distance to flesh where i can by now. the squirrels now have joined the fray, aggressively threatening the birds over who found what mistaken crumb. small animal food sources have dwindled and i see it in these Mean Streets, and i hear it in their calls. i should've invested in millet. not a cloud in the sky, but there are two birds, not flapping, only soaring, i assume 'soaring' means unflappable, just going in lazy wide swaths wide-winged as can stretch.
the sun sets in under an hour, i may not be outside then, but here i am, 3rd day all day waiting for fedex to drive right on by so he can hurry back and mark my package again undeliverable. fedex is like tibetan sand art, here i sit all day to accomplish something, then it's all blown away by sunset. fedex has really helped me prepare for this event that i was preparing for by ordering deliveries by them. hours on the phone, hours in the street. there's actually a line of cars at the redlight intersection, wow a record, it feels so homey here now. a barricade in front of the pizzashop lets you know the city will kindly let you park free for 3 minutes to get food and run, though i mentined this yesterday, so i am already recycling old news. alot of litter and leaves on the sidewalk, the clouds have begun getting metallic fringed with the sunset oncoming. there are about a dozen people gathered outside two stores, groups who usually would be hanging out on this block regardless. bj is hunched over a book, sometimes looking up to adjust his glasses and take a looksee at whos around. empty trolley cycle #47 continues by. northbound supply train rumbles by for two minutes, and i notice the two traingatemen have packed for the day and forever, their 3 day reign has ended, the tracks patched up and the trains must go on. sunday evening is a pleasant stroll down an antiseptic lane. lets check the 6pm stats....ok still 2 die per day in the state, and another dozen are diagnosed with it in the county, so 12 dead in state and 70 with it known in county. dade n broward broke 200 cases today. fedex just marked my package online as undeliverable. this was day 3 of sitting out front for them, of spending over 3.5 hours on the phone with them, over this shipment. i am horrified at how they've messed up this bad and at this time. if i could strap myself to a passing fedex truck as if it were the last sequioa on earth i would. it prevents my mind from staying empty and receptive to the things around me, by forcing me to think of this unneeded stress. it defines today. too bad, i could've been biking or shopping during this time. i wonder if i can squeeze a bikeride in right before nightfall, being publix closes in 30 minutes on the island it would make a good race against time for those final crumbs. i'll save some for the birds, squirrels can fend for themselves. first death in palm beach county today, and the state broke 1000 sick, or rather tested as sick. 333k sick worldwide as of today. 32k sick in the us, an even 400 died. isn't today the first full day of spring, i didn't see it in the news to remind me. i must look a quite disheveled mess, as a guy who'd just bought chicken fingers at the corner foodplace wenr by and asked if i wanted chicken fingers, holding the styrofoam box out to me. certainly chicken fingers every day all day, but no, not from him, i'd like to have them, i just don't need them. i will always wonder what sauce was in there for the dipping though. i'm hoping chunky blue cheese. now i want that on a crospy english muffin. everythings good on an english muffin, they are like a field of poppies when you make mini pizzas with them, each slightly unique from another in taste and texture, but each , like Gods children, perfect. if you are dropping into some boxcar tomorrow, that you buried in your backyard a decade ago just waiting for your day in the underground to come true, sure, weld the rooftrap door shut from the inside, but make sure you've enough muffins for 8 a day times howevermany weeks you're going to cook them by tealight. sourdough variety, of course, and publix has the greenmarket organic ones bogo for 1 week every 2 months. that means i'm still going to strike gold during this storm ahead. i looked up the recipe to make them once, no way, i was hoping it would be as easy as making pancakes, instead it'd be easier making a triple-stack wedding cake.
the sun has set, i was hoping to wring more from this day. everyone says they are going to start writing, they just need the time. uh, yea, so i realized decades ago, as once you get in the gears of life, your minutes are cogs and the machine doesn't stop, so when really are you going to go sit somewhere, empty your mind of your immediate needs and wants, and instead of push out energy, you take it all in MAAAAAAANNNNNNN!
hippies with pencils, god can't you please bring them back, scattered in the field with seesaws across the street? i want them just a foot or two high, and replicate like tribbles, and stay behind that fence. there could be one of those 'throw-it-at-the-wall-and-it-sticks-with-tiny-suction-cups' viral balls in their beard. i do miss heading to some new spot with friends, and just lying around in grass or bench and doodle curves or whittle words on paper. but yea, whatever someone says they want to do the most, the reason they aren't doing it is because time steals their change. plus, emptying a mind, well, it's like a purse you keep diging around in and yet there's more coins in there at the bottom center seam. the brain is a clown car of foolish thoughts like doubts and distresses that could easily be resolved with better communication with others. me sitting here, with no other reason than to try and see what pops out of my head when i try to 'be still' and become only a harmonic to this chorus of life around me, is quite a task, one made better with a box of, of course, cheezits, snack of champions. a new flavor every month. for now i sit here with no food, no drink, just this digital divine. i should be using a notepad and paper, i am cheating when typing, i am taking the shortcut to my thoughts and not the scenic drive. i should have a pencil for these days that i can hear the pencil squeal against paper, and pretend i am doing goldleaf emoticons on papyrus, scribing about the upcoming locusts here, by the nile. certainly typing spills out a different string of thoughts than writing. i bet its a left brain right brain thing too, where one lights up like one of those 'chinas factories at night' satellite photos while the other side is a dimly smudged milky way in the scans.
it almost seems unsual getting some stores 'hey there save another 25% off scarves this weekend only' promo emails. like it is almost offensive in some odd way i cannot put a finger on. another new email i have gotten from dozens of companies the past 2 weeks is how they are 'addressing the covid19' by 'cleaning every shelf and shining every shoe' in an effort to remain your place to shop. my thoughts never wondered what these places were doing to keep their place clean yet they're all at my door heralding their sanitation. the president did his nightly talk, and i am listening to cnn. i do enjoy reading the daily mail as far as a single website, as they have 100s of articles on the front page, and i can't say they learn one side or the other as far as american politics, so for me it's fine to read. cnns website is too sparse for news and huffpos childish foottall headlines underlined, they are too far this way for me and youknowwho is too far the other. i do randomly check many other news sites, it's just theres 2 i always keep open pinned. today i kinda poked around as far as the simplest way to post this text, and maybe some videos/photos sprinkled within, on some site. specifically to use google sites as a quick way to paste in the text, embed the video links, and done. i dunno, how many days will i go on, and once i'm told to stay inside, what can i look outside my window and write about that's separate from the rest? explain what clouds look like, rabbit, sheep, laughing porky man with beard like santa, two mic dancing a jig, they all congeal then dispel, such is life.
this is the end of day two, tomorrow is the beginning of something new. some new statistic, some new headline, some new thought i have never thought about before, i will go out again and conquer nothingness, everyness, i will stare squirrels in the eyes, squint down the street to see how many minutes away the next passerby is. the news says the govt failed tonight to get this package to get people taken care of financially, eek, pretty stunning when you've millions of people, children, who are soon not going to be eating as they did a month ago. i'm sure there's a lot of sticky stuff though that has to be hashed out, there's no history books to look back in to see how they did it before. so tomorrow surely they will get that done, gulp, and i will get out to bike, get over to publix, peoplewatch unless someone hisses at me to get back. i am typing using what i use for most notes/code/bits of life, which is notepad++, and i have white text on black background, for its easier at night. i wonder if i can bike during a lockdown, cant i go down the bike path or would there be some dedicated clan to prevent bike paths throwing down spiked chains in my path, so i only get another 25 feet before i have to hoof it on foot back home. if they shoot one of those net guns at me and i go down struggling as if within a ball of yarn, do i immediately get quarantined because i was out during The Time of The Sun so surely i must be infected. i don't have spell check on and i'm not looking back, because then i'll get lost in the reflection and corrections, so forgive paint spatters and inconsistencies.
me being out in the center of town has to be the most frowned upon action being taken right now in this nation. i am a rebel of one. i should have a flag planted in this planter alongside me proclaiming my ignorance of this area. if anyone with it has spelunked downtown in the past few days and nights, their spores have brushed my shoulders. now, if i KNEW i was going to get it, then yea let's get this over with so i can move on. i just don't want to be one of the first ones, because it will be like the early days of aids where you are an outcast, i don't want to duck stones and hot cups of kratom. i don't want to be one of the last people either to get it, where i just dreaded it for months, then the day i celebrate freedom i sneeze. i am going to aim for somewhere 1/3rd into the bell curve, where people have accepted The Infirm Who Walk Amongst Us by then, yet not too far in that everyone's sick at once so i am nervous about the hospital being overloaded. i wish covid19 came in a capsule akin to cyanide, where you break it as you see fit as this point in your life. i'm glad it is not like some new species of mosquitos, that it is not visible when it attacks, that would be way scarier, like 'here it comes! run!' and some of your friends are stuck in the heads by some metallic proboscus when they stumble in the intersection. i'm am glad if death is coming, that it comes silently and discretely, and not chasing me like giant soap bubbles from an angry hive.
this is the day weinsteins coronavirus was announced, and the national guard going to the first 3 states has been announced. still, to most of america, this is all just news, it's not outside their doorstep, so it is hard to gauge what happens when this stormfront hits your doorbell. i wish fedex would hit mine, as i just installed a new wireless one at the front door. italy represents how strong a response can be needed, as they can't even do outside exercise, and they check your temp before you can go in a supermarket. i did see people i knew today in this street, so it was much rosier than yesterdays doldrums. lets see what mondays workweek brings tomorrow, oh wait it shouldn't as only essentials are still open. surely most smaller stores want to be deemed essential so they can pay their employees and try to eek out these last minute profits.
now close to midnight, and with popcorn bag in bed, splinters of kernels surrounding me as a halo, i check one last time the news tonight, the state broke 1k cases i see, and now i will turn off the news, turn on some form of ambient albums i have, whether some form of water moving, or forest chex mix. i just don't need birds in my sleep, they're practically in my lap all day. i know they're going to be strongwinging me soon, pointing to my bag like a constantine and demanding the goods. something crumbly. so now i will lie here, hard to slepe not thinking of the day, but to what i will wake up to, what's the next ring of fire with an ever less diameter, what's the disney song i'll whistle to drown out the shadows which loom behind me, forcing me to keep running to the even darker shadows ahead.
i'm glad i can sleep easy knowing these windows are hurricane proof, no birds going to try and jackhammer this glass to get in, crazed in hunger seeing a giant seeded crumb on two legs in bed here. i am safe from the animals, but not from the MAN MAAANNNNNNN!
glad i could get another one out tonight.
monday, actually it's just a few minutes after midnight and i wanted to cheat. this is technically the start of a new day, just not emotionally until i awake.
now it is morning, right before 8am, and i have taken a comfy camp chair to the front of the place where i live, so i' once again on clematis, the sun angles a golden carpet down the road for these few minutes of sunrise. good morning trolley, you persist for another day, you provide a clockwork framing for these times. fuck off parking attendant, how are you roaches, oh wait, that's right, even nuclear blasts, i forgot your presistance. the sky is clear, the ocean still in the distance has that soft golden-grey moist glow before it burns off quickly, there are slight bonuses waking up a bit earlier then others in florida, catch-em-when-you-can skyscapes, breezes, and birdsongs. now of course im calling fedex at 8am after talking to them over 30 minutes last night (my phone use with them now measured in hours the past 4 days with this 1 package), this time i have to not fall for the 'ok let me get your phone number, and the driver will call you when he comes back' for the 6th time.....ah yes, they did say it for the 6th time just now. this time i seemed to have climbed the ranks because i was transferred to the 'advocate team' which seems odd i need an advocate to help me, aren't all employees advocates for their company. she promised a call back in 15 and she would personally call my local yaddayaddayadda but i believe her, because i want to believe her, i want faith in These Times, i want to kneel in front of a 52lb box my my name on it.
it has been 30 minutes, now at 830, and not a single person except homeless has passed. no workers, no dogwalkers, no sidewalk sweepers. just me and birds on the edge of building facades and branches, all sizing me up. how many birds right now could take me down like guillivers travels and then each fly off with just a tiny bite of me, and how many licks would it take to get to the bottom of my tootsie pop. for now they see me as candy, but soon i will be straight up protein in their beady beaky eyes, with empty souls like a sharks. a security gocart comes by every 5 minutes. parrots banter hidden behind palm fronds, a pidgeon does his funkwalk down the sidewalk looking for bits coming my way, takes a dump without even stopping or lifting a leg, cocks an eye up at me in a 'deal with it' way, and then his waddling behind tails on down the sidewalk east. i feel without humans around the animals are going to abuse me. i saw a roach come from under my apartment door yesterday, i think he was a sentinel, a scout, sent as an advance team to see what crumbs i might have in the safe. i promptly crushed him and checked his pockets for credentials, then flushed.
the first car on the block has finally parked, but the person has not come out from their tinted windows. a man in a giant walker, a type i have never seen before, comes by scuffling. his legs are potato sticks, i am glad he is getting out and working them out, the day you stop trying to do what doesn't come easy is the day you start dying. a man in a striped shirt and bookbag goes by, this is not the time for striped shirts. i hear the distant harmonic ring of train tracks as the brightline train pulls in a block away. so much more sound to revel in without the whitenoise of cars. some day this block will be a swamp in ruins, returned back to mama gaia and swamp dragons.
right now a bald guy with full tats walking like a bulldog crossed the street and a car came by and oh boy bulldog thought the car was too close so he started yelling at the driver. the driver then pulled over yelling, and the bulldog then dropped his bookbag of what i assume to be armaments and headed straight over to the car cursing about how is-he-trying-to-kill-him. the guy HAD pulled over to perhaps altercate in this Time of Plenty, but once he saw a wellmuscled overtatted bald man heading his way a bit perturbed, he rolled up his windows at the last moment hurriedly, as a father would do when the ostriches run over to the car at lion country safari to steal the popcorn. he then drove off while BaldMan waved a fist, and as i gawked BaldMan continued his rant heading my way and asks 'know what i mean?', oh yes yes yes i nod in concern wholeheartedly because i am an unsafe distance from my front door, he could beat me to it, so i fully agree that driver is an asshole and needs reprimand immediately.
it is 9am, wherefore art thou essential workers. the workweek has officially begun, but only 2-3 works passed in the hour. mornings glow is gone, now the sun is a mere shadowmaker through the trees. i hear this rhythmic whistle of what i think is construction of giant buildings a few blocks from me, like some sound when those giant cranes move. some of those who drive by are holding their phones up to record the street. i give a moment pause about crime around this block during this time, i wonder if businesses will pur hurricane shutters up. in 05/06 after the hurricanes there was a lockdown, and at night i would sit here on clematis with nightvision scope and tankmount spotlight, and every night i would watch skeevey people creep around the corner of the block, and try to look in windows and test doors with my nightvision, and once they got close enough (since it was complete darkness being there was no electric for days/weeks) i would turn on the spotlight and they'd run back from the corner whence they came. this time there is electric but lack of $ for food and drugs means they will come creeping round again. a woman in jogging outfit walks by with a bulkbag of tiolet paper, she has won her day, she hit up public at first opening 6 minutes ago and 2 blocks away. publix opens earlier but the elderly get to shop first, while things are still in stock, shiny, and sterile. we yung'uns get their scraps after the first hour of being open for most stores now. that worked out so natural and smooth for some idea we didn't think about a month ago. i see the 2nd fedex minivan of the morning drive by, i want to throw myself in front of the bull as a sacrifical lamb of The Saint of Undeliverables. i hear the jackhammers of construction, or destruction, a few blocks away and that beeping of trucks when they are in reverse so they don't run over your toe. mechanics and beaks are the morning instruments for monday. a male jogger comes by with headphones, he walks on this heels so its that fshhhh fshhhh fshhh shuffle, he greets me and i quietly greet back assuming he can't even hear me. there are posters in windows on the blocks, proclaming concerts and parties that will never be this month, so perhaps they are collectors items. i did find another photo taped to a streetlight, as downtown has some unknown basquiat who spends surely hours writing/drawing elaborate doodles condemning most everyone, but some are so intricate and comical and hateful that they are worth collecting, and i have been collecting them for years now. i think he has created over 10,000 by now and i only have 7, so i need to be more aware. one of this signature photo series is jewelry and meat. gold rings and blue diamonds and heavy rope chains draped across slabs of raw flank steak and shrimp and ground beef. the photos are developed at what i think is walgreens or cvs. colored felt tips sometimes adorn the backs of the photos, with words condemning the govt, the gays, the women, the anyone but hims. his vaginal doodles are terrifying neon multicolored monsters with teeth and infinite spiral hair, he really wants the children to know that the road to hell begins with that rabbit hole. i wonder if he is homeless, i would think he is not crazy but has a point doing these, but some surely take over an hour to make the city workers throw 99% of it away in the mornings so most are lost. any man who puts ruby-encrusted bracelets on raw lobster tails has my ear, so perhaps his prophecies will cause me to rethink my life goals during This Time of Trouble.
i see a guy in sunglasses and whitecollared shirt go by with a coffee, a COFFEE?! where in the Name of God....
a trolley goes by with an empty stomach. another parking enforcement cart goes by and if only i knew i could upturn it on my own, and pull out a branding iron i forged before dawn, to stake the word TRAITOR on that vile human. if i see him issue a ticket on this block today i am going to say something to them, only because i'm nosy with a touch of irritated. freight train heading south. the block without a human on it. checking the morning news, i see an article about spain and i think it says they had 462 people die there in the past 24 hours, that's alot for such a small country, that would be like 1000s dying in the us daily. the news this morning is that trump hopes things can reopen in two weeks because he doesn't like this economic hit, i don't have to mention nor ponder how he is getting along with the professionals at this time, i just hope this time there's enough professionals to tamp him down a bit as far as his directives. a woman in her 70s comes along in tootight jeans and white longsleeve, stops to light a cigarette, and moves on, jeez, isn't this the time to get ones lungs in order. i notice what seems to be 'freshly homeless' people heading by, asking about directions to a store, to a bathroom, to the waterfront, as they haul wheeled luggage in each hand. all those lives hanging by a thread already and now the threads cut and they are spiders hanging onto webs attaching to nothing but the sail of a breeze.
the local fedex station called me now, assures me yes they had a new driver who didn't know the area, ok sure, as if there are not names of the streets and numbers on each building. i am assured today, day 4 of The Futile Wait, is truly The Day. i should hold a suprise party for my box when it comes, we will both be shocked at its entrance. a young man comes by to take the change out of the parking meters with a special key, i take it he is disabled as in the midst of draining his quarters into the lockbox of wheels, he looks over my shoulder, does something in between a cheerleading dance and firing a bazooka my way, and then gets back to business. i hope he took out both our demons for the day. my head to the left, my head to the right, sitting, waiting on nothing just something to happen. i feel like the Willie 2020 redesign, and that's quite a local reference which doesn't even extend past this block. i wanted to get a haircut before the Barbers Revolt of 2020 but now i'll have to deal with this long hair on a frontal balding head like i'm a mentor for marty mcfly. i have camera ready to record but what can one notate visually when even an empty chip bag floating down the centerline of the street has my attention. downtown has lost the '9 to 5' effect surely, this is the pits, i want some action in my pandemics, bring on the verbs.
madonnas in the news, she now looks like a madonna 1985 mask stretched over a charlie brown balloon head. i don't know how much americans want to hear of hollywooders bemoaning being stuck in their estates, so they have a fine line to twitter. at some point i will regularly check my temp with my fluke thermometer, once these lil bugs are closer to the area, maybe a temp check lets you know soonest somethings awry, or maybe it's a cough, or a sneeze, or that funny lil tickle in the throat. i don't know what the first clue is but i have a feeling many of us think 'uh oh, is THIS it?' during their days. you never realize how often people sneeze in public until the worlds collapsing.
...its not noon yet, i did go back and nap an hour, since nights now aren't the deepest pools i do go back in to backfloat for a bit these mornings. grabbed some ginger candies to hand out in case i see anyone i know, but for how much longer will people take some trinket from an Outsiders hand.
ahh, yes day 4 of fedex, an hour ago the guy from my local fedex called to let me know he spoke to the driver and its coming any time now for me, well an hour later and the website marks it as 'final delivery attempt failed'. this during the time i have been out here studying an empty street. so luckily this time i have the local phone and i don't have to call the 800 number where a random person will tell me the same exact things. so i just called back and told him, and he kept me on hold while actually calling the driver and telling them to go right now back to me and deliver it. he said if i don't see it in 45 minutes to call back to him. once you have a NAME when you need help, you at least have a lifeline. if i can reach the same person when i have an issue, it means i will work with them to resolve the issue, if i get someone different every time i assume this issue is going to take multiple calls to repeat the same story. people should be happy enough with their work that they want you to know their name. i see a fedex truck.....it STOPS and victory is within hand.
gov cuomo of ny is giving a hourlong news conference, he just cut to this awkward 2 minute clip of deniro and louie de palma begging their fellow new yorkers to lock yourself away for a few weeks. the sun is almost directly overhead. i've seen people with masks this week and it gives me a sense of how many flat earthers surround me. i smell a distant form of chicken noodle soup, only when the wind whips up briefly. a homeless guy walks by and says he sees me up and down the block, and soon it will be only him and me left, and that its not big deal because its just like malaria, and he's already had that. some homeless like to find a spot, a makeshift nest, and guard it most of the day and night, except for excursions for food, change, and cigs. others keep walking the beat, constantly up and down or around and around, and those ones ether are constantly scanning surfaces for something of substance to take, while others and locked-n-loaded with pinpoint focus on a thought that keeps hiding the next block up. i hear the whistle, whir, and hammers of construction in the alley where some warehouse construction is going on, not essential perhaps but not seen enough that anyone would notice these NonEssentials and their Ilk. a man, a stroller, and his baby, or someones baby that needs rescue, goes by. a man with a coffee blatantly sneezed fullforce into open air upwind of me, which means i've mere seconds as The Mist heads this way, so i hold my breath for a bit. you slob. the next person passing is a girl on the phone, and she too sneezes openly. i'd like to play matchmaker to the Slobs That Remain, i have noticed those who tend to be out now don't seem to care much and will still shake a hand and still funnel mucus clouds your way. soon it'll be like watching those Ball Earthers fall off the edge of Flat Earth maaaaannnn.
i am glad for all those end-of-worlders and doomprep people get to use up some of their molding reserves though. how many 1000s of tens of thousands of people have quietly slipped away under the ground, into the cliffs, farthest in the oceans, only to find their 1988 peanut butter squeeze bottle guaranteed good till 2078 is cracked mortar, and they just broke a second spork trying to get some nuclearproof grapejelly slathered on a patiostone hard cracker. the news hasn't covered much of all those people who live lives in fear and prepped as such, they didn't scatter away saying they warned us, as they don't want it known where they ran to, thinking we would track them down for a bucket of flour come another few days.
in the Age of Less Deliveries, i found the amazon deliveryvan just granted me a wish, for upon my lap sits a maniala envelope, and only because i have no shame i will admit that i bought something called 'hippeas'. these times force a mans darkest shadows to be revealed in the brightest sun, that i would ever be holding 4 ounces of hippeas, here, in public. i only purchased them because they were on clearance, apparently when they expire in a month they turn into moths and fly away. i have never eaten them before, they taste like moths. they taste like moths if they were put in a vat them reduces them to that hotdog sludge and foam-pressed to resemble the cheez-doodle shipping peanuts (should be called ship doodles though). apparently the rear of the package reveals them to be made of chickpeas, pea hulls, rice concentrate, and other items technically called food but tastes like shipment insulation. terrible. terrible that it is very untasty, terrible that someone out there in passing could've captured me holding a bag of hippeas. i do not endorse them. not a trace of white chedder goodness, a whole bag downed and nothing to lick off my fingers. no crumbles at the bottom of the bag. hippeas might only be good if cedar shavings run short for homebound gerbils and guinea pigs this quarter, something to burrow away in and repulse possible predators. the 4th seeming fresh homeless person with luggage on wheels on both arms. it is 7 blocks from the waterfront to the train/bus station. this is not a bad city to be destitute in compared to others. you can find some food, somewhat of shelter, not be bothered too much unless you yourself are a bother. i have known dozens on this block during the decades, most get a nickname, well everyone i know gets a nickname or more from me. here for years and then that one day you never see them again. you know they didn't move to anywhere because they liked it here, so sometimes you would hear of them being found dead, sometimes they would tell me in advance they got aids, or liver disease, or cancer. then the day they aren't in their usual perch. then you forget their name after a few years, and decade or two later only remember them when someone from the block asks if you remember the time soandso wandered around yelling suchandsuch at the parking meter before breaking his wrist on it. i wish i trolloped about the street with a kerosene lantern on a noble steed this christmas, chastising revelers to flatten curves because the virii are coming.
it is now evening, the produce stand and publix were empty and well stocked, minus bleach and tiolet paper. it was like the play-at-home version of Supermarket Sweep.
its 10something in the morning. i just did a bring-your-own-chair to the cafe just now, but there still were two chairs left behind since when they did the final chair sweep to bring them in for harvest, there were two people sitting in chairs then, so here they will remain as a couple through the Times of No People. maybe bringing my own is good, maybe its sanitary, maybe everything i do now, every step in public, i should add 'was that sanitary' to 'was i polite'. if there are two chairs left on the main street of a county where 1/3rd are 2plypaper-crazed SporePods, surely sick people are coming downtown, getting weary, and finding they are indeed blessed because here's a chair garys going to sit on in an hour. just enough time for those 3 Koopa Landmines to replicate the size of a coffeedrop before velcroing to my jeans. ok, my own chair from now on it is, now because of now, but so i remember to do it later. alot of the little changes i am doing now, i do so it is just an unconcious action in the near future. 'learning to live' we call it. as every day should be, as every day should be a recall of my passages you inked in the brain, you carved in the brain, you burned in the brain, you hurt in the brain. every day when i look up at these clouds, i better not see a brigade of bunnies crossing a field of cotton, i have only one day to see that, and then it can only be a memory, those bunnies should not return again, there are always new ways to see the same old things. some innate beauty can be found in repetition, a looms numerically precise clockwork of wood and metals all wrapped up in an eternally identical cadence, it's entire life it will repeat the same sentence every second for years, but it will still make tapestries where no two are the same. it's up to us to thread the wheel with our emotions and concouisness of existence, to make moments unique to us no matter how rote our positions. today the sky is about cloudless with less than a dozen small wisps that look like fried synapses coming apart, and i can never see that again nor say that again.
at the cafe now, and there is a truck out front with two workers of some company. the truck says 'inframap - complete utility infrastructure surveying'. the truck has a trailer on its hitch, and the trailer has a air compressor the size of a childrens popup camper, and from it comes two thick hoses to a jackhammer. when i go to sit down, the guys let me know 'theres going to be alot of dust coming this way', so i get up to go on their other side. as i settled down they began jackhammering away the sidewalk tiles a few feet from the front of the cafe. indeed, dust hath issued forth, and a crevice is revealed. they are going deep, i wonder what they are mapping, some utility line junction, perhaps prepping for the future major construction when this whole block will be shut down for multi-month major work. new street, new sidewalk, new trees, new benches, old bj. i remember the somewhat large street redo in 2010ish, and the last major one was uhhh, 95ish. this time i hope they get it right with more trees, we need shade, these could be streets of gold but noone wants to walk down that in the midst of dead summer. what if its dead summer in heaven eternally. no that's hell. gold streets, summer, no sandals. no tiolet paper. my neighbor just passed by, i'm glad hes out taking a walk. it is the same level of empty as the past few days, every few minutes 1-3 people pass or a couple with dog. i think they are now using a giant vaccuum which vacs up even the stone broken tiles. the air compressor is so close to me for the jackhammer and giantvac that my ears now ring a little, i cannot hear anything else but the compressor with its loud air-escaping hiss, except for when a train passes. now the guys are a couple feet down in the ground and they have some long aircompressed device i have never seen used before, it has a wideflat 6inch tip, and he just put it in the hole and it jumped about in his grip, i guess it loosens up stuff like dirt, something a jackhammer isnt meant for. i wonder how long they will be here, they block my view, and they block all sound, and it smells. i chose to sit here.
the temperature is right around 80, it is the point when here in the shade of the cafe awning all is ducky, but if i were in direct sun my touchpad would sweat. what are todays stats anyways...ok lets see, florida has 1400 positive and 18 dead, so just 1 since yesterday passed. palm beach county has an even 100 positive and 3 dead. we broke 500 dead in the country and 46k positive. this morning trump is going to trumpily forge ahead with his plan to get things up and running much sooners than the medical community wants. this will be fascinating to watch play out, he could be right, he could be wrong, whatever he does, we will know the results and judge him individually for his choice on this. i cannot predict, i cannot say who's right or wrong until the event is over. it is the medical communitys job to always err on the side of caution when caught on even a 50/50 perfect split of something. so this now becomes another side dish to the main course we're on together. i guess that's why he does not want a federal shutdown, so that the states on their own can choose not to have one at all. but people don't really move along boundaries and statistics, people are a single entity net encompassing the globe, so it seems its more an all or none design. but again i do not know, it just seems decisions based on legal dottedline borders for these events with no legalities nor borders don't apply. if the democrats wanted a glint of hope for hving trump not be president again, since they failed with coming up with a first-choice solution, a proper candidate, then this can be their second chance, whether one calls it divinity or blind fate. if trump makes the wrong choice, then lives are affected, and he would lose support in that fashion. for now, tuesday, it is another not-yet-skyrocketing-stats day on the beach. i take my sip of peach tea.
my stomach is a bit sore from bursting at the seams, as last night was a Glutton Run to that discount store called ollies. i ate a box of cheezits, some mint cookies, some ginger cookies, some whitechocolate twix, some coconut wafers, some orange-creme cornballs, and really i shouldve just wrote 'i ate shit shit and more shit' to keep this sentence short. most of that consumption was in the car ride home. sometimes sugar cannot fit fast enough down my throat and it's times like those when i wish my jaw could distend like a python around a piglet. the aisles were clear to ballroom dance down, although i mostly did the chattanooga. if thats even a dance, maybe its called the chattahootchie, but i think thats a river in georgia, so ones a song and ones a dance. one involves burt reynolds and a frisky banjo. this air compressor is too loud of a hiss, gosh, i hate to move, theres nice shadow here, the exhaust from it as well is making my throat hurt. i wish i could make my own shadow, and be in it at the same time. oh, that pneumatic device tamps down the dirt, it doesn't loosen it up. one guy keeps adding patch soil and the other guy is tamping it down, meaning they will be done soon. i see a plane, rare now so you notice them like you did when you were a kid with viennasausage pointing fingers, to reinforce yes yes up there. the men now have gotten back to ground level and place a stone in place, and viola, as if nothing ever happened here. i cannot wait until they turn that machine off and put their man-sized dremel bits away. he just spray painted the spot yellow like a neon dog. 4 people walk by in a line, that many could be unsettling but because each one is exactly 2 inches shorter than the person on their left, it makes it fengshui ok. two officers pass, following a Suit&Tie. i am told i can go back to where i wanted to sit because he was done doing the work here, so i go back to sit in my original spot, i am further from the machine now so i notice my ears are ringing now that its quieter. i now sit in the place i wanted to, but they weren't done-done, they still had to blow away the dust, so they did it and my eyes now hurt and theres stone dust all over me and laptop. i see it on the end of my lashes and i feel it with every blink, but my hands are dusty too so i cant clean eyes easily. i got the poor mans covid all over me. they are measured various spots they dug up, and more spraypainting. the city might want to get things done that are easier to accomplish when everything is empty. two tiny dogs on dragging 4ft leashes run a full halfblock ahead of their old master who is rapdily moving with a babystroller empty. the two construction men ponder if the dogs are on-the-loose or if this is just something the master does with them. the constructions guys let me know they will be doing more of these dusty digs here but 15 feet down. it is noon right now so they turn their NoiseContraption off and sit down near me. ah quiet. so if they are here for hours, i really can't keep sitting here. its dust clouds and its painful loud. for now, lunch break, so i have either 30 min or an hour before they go back to bedrock. two cars on the street parked, both workers. noone on the block but me and the two guys. hint of rainclouds so it has cooled a few degrees since the wind is from that direction.
cars are rarer this day, like less 'lets go see what downtown looks like now' seekers. you now pass me by on your way to somewhere else with intent, not just crawling by with camera out. i spent some of this morning experimenting with some of the items that came yesterday. i will spend many hours this week trying different items which gel water or oil based liquids. i have many things i make which are water or oil mixtures, and now that i worked out the active ingredients i want in these mixes, i now want to add a little something to i can make these items more like a syrup, or more like a gel, so they are not runny water or oil. this is so they can be used easier, for instance a face serum or a hand soap. i look forward to trying, failing, charting, failing, cursing, failing, because nothing teaches you better than failing, well, and charting. if you don't chart you tend to forget successes or repeat failures. damn, the guys only took a 10 minute break and the DeafMaker is back on 12 feet from me. the winds blowing this way too, which means the work they do any minute will wash me in silt. now i see the police chief coming by with 4 other officers, they cross the street right before reaching me, to avoid the sidewalk construction. one guy jackhammers down as the other guy holds the giantvac to remove the debris as he hammers. i just realized i have seen no homeless, new or known, since i have been down here an hour. was there some Coming during the night i was not made aware of. does the sound of a jackhammer cause them to scatter. so many questions, too many answers. the construction guy is signaling me that here comes the dust, and indeed, a slow snow is accuring on my keyboard. now i feel bad because they actually stopped so he could come over here and tell me about it. i now feel bad that they might work differently now because i am in their comettrail, so i do move, i move more in to the side area of the cafe, away from their view, though some of their chaff will still round the corner in this wind and get me. i move some cafe furniture around as a makeshift alamo. there is a tremendous pile of cig butts here next to the cigbut-thing-that-you-put-your-cigbuts-in-so-you-arent-littering, you know, that thing. i am assuming someone was hard up for a cig so they dumped THAT thing over so drain it of its carbonized jewels. leaves and food wrappers also have begun accumulating here in the cafe side area. i wonder who will clean this area over the months since stuff from the sidewalk tends to blow and get caught in this area. i can not imagine running any form of a business right now. anyone depending on me for income. i stress fairly easy about some things, and others, not so much. as long as i don't stress over everything. i still try to believe at half a century here, that if i go into things with a pure heart and awareness, things will turn out ok. that is not true, it is my myth, it flutters against my light.
so i had to leave outside, it was unbearable, so i am back inside, another round of binge eating snacks. i feel like if i stick my hand once in 8 bags of junk, then at least i am not binge eating, just sampling the warez. a salty this, a sweet that, a bunch of tangy those. then walk around 410 square feet twice, and wander back into the kitchen as if discovering a new cavern even after all these years of spelunking. i made squash last night. simple. cut any type in half, drizzle with stuff, stick in 475 oven skins down. it's like pizza there's oh-so-many variations to be done with them. celebrate a squash today. if you see one in the street, don't shake its hand but let it know you care, offer it to come home with you now and enjoy a relaxing massage and bath of olive oil, garlic, salt, pepper, and green herb of their choosing. so back home and hmm, i look outside to the rear of the adjoining building, and construction guys are doing construction tasks on it. i see their orange giant thermos on tap, i hear their dewalt bangproof radio playing a country station and an aluminum ladder constantly being adjusted. cnn is on, they are pretty focused on trumps concept of opening things up real soon, they really want it reinforced by waves of experts from various fields saying 'yikes' to that idea. i was thinking of a lazyday 20 minute nap, but i have a beaker on the stove as i am warming a liquid to add gelling materials to and see how various ratios turn out with the two. the news says the govt has agreed to some economic deal though it is not announced yet, for now they want people to know its coming soon. yesterday i sliced my fingertip deep enough that it is annoying to keep it kept shut a day later, its like the maw of garden lizard trying to scare you off. it has just been announced india, with 1,300,000,000 people, is locked down. though i wonder if lockdown means the same thing in every city, state, country. there's all these new terms used and do we all have the same definition of them. is one mans locked-down-but-grocery-stores-ok another mans locked-down-and-we-shoot-on-sight.
with my cut snackfinger, i still manage to shovel some in, the flavordust make my fingertip sting like im catching cheddar bees. i take a seocnd 20 minute nap later in the day, i dabble in the new oils and chemicals i got yesterday, i take a shower and shave, getting the days dust off, and here before sunset i return to the cafe. the wind is a strong 18mph'ish and its in the mid 70s. a perfect day in the be here now moment. i grabbed my chair from its tucked away spot and sit by the road. there is an electric outlet here on the lightpole, but a chubby older man , khaki-shorted and wearyblue-sleeved, has come to sit on a bench near me and quickly plugs his phone to one outlet and his usb battery to the other, using both outlets. you beast, you hoggart, he knows exactly what hes doing too, as my charger sits on the table a sleeping viper with noone to plug. i have about half an hour on this charge so he has 29 minutes to make a decision in life before i unplug his attentions. he has an overstuffed backpack, i wonder if he is another from the Toybox of Outcasts, those who had to leave a domecile before we all locked ourselves in. couples are doing their sunset strolls. the man asks if i mind if he smokes, his teeth are all rotted, i tell him as long as the wind doesn't blow my way, with a half laugh like i'm casual but actually i'm disgusted. yes, these are great days to smoke and toughen those lungs up for The Coming. someone i know 'from the block' comes by and we chat for 5 minutes, just that basic stuff people who sorta' know each other talk about. 1 or 2 people come by the block every few minutes, most coming from the condos and heading to the waterfront. i am going to play bob marley on my bluetooth speaker, perhaps it will make this man move on from my outlets and spotless lungs. he has done nothing but take in our short relationship, and ah his first round of ashes just blew on my keyboard, some getting caught between letters. he fights with his shoe as though he suddenly realized his foots up a roaches ass, then calms back down again. this breeze is goosebumply in the suns final five minutes to give a final statement.
now is the time they are saying more than half the countrys cases stem from ny, so anyone coming from ny should quarantine away for two weeks. new yorkers love this city and the island, so surely ticking bombs have passed me by with their leashes and strollers, sending a sniff my way. nonetheless, i persist. somehow i will manage to sit here alone on yet another perfect sunset, awaiting the next perfect sunrise. just give me 10 minutes before any event to wake up and buckle down. i cannot post a photo that would give any definition to this day, it's a xerox of the others. in the news just now the first child us death happened. while 'mother natures son' plays, two drunk homeless men argue in front of me, one slurs to me how he has nothing wrong with me, that i'm ok, and then he goes back to yelling to the other one how hes already been in jail and ain't scared. his R's are rolling pretty wide and his S's are pretty spitty. thanks guys for being here for me today, i was lonely, and now i am found. now i see not only are the homeless not around anymore much, there crumb birds of the sunsets do not come here either now. evolution has begun. i think the pizza place is open but i do not see anyone coming by for one. dogwalkers own these streets now. i want to snatch one of those '3 minute parking' signs once they shut things down completely, that's a memory to save tucked away in a closet. this guy next to me, coughing and smoking, is playing poker on his phone, while my battery continues to drain from his addiction. i send a high energy frequency like a dolphin, 'go away go away go away' i send a message of light and leave from my eyes to his sunspotted temples. a guy passes by, who the other night went on for too many minutes about how this whole thing was fake and its just a way to take down trump. he went on for way too long the other night on a subject matter that was false and dull, nothings worse than a liar than a dull liar. at least give me some imaginative story with your falsehoods, i don't want to know the earth is flat, i want to know for how long you fell and who caught you. as the man passes i look studiously at my keyboard like this is such a serious subject i am on. i don't want to coax him again into being an open ear, he abused the priviledge last time.
a homeless man comes with his tiny wheeled cartcase, his head bobbing like one of those head-on-a-spring car dashboard bobble. he laughs at something, he is now angry at the same subject of his attention, he goes to a far table here and sits in the corner, he searches his belongings for minutes, just shuffling without purpose. pokerplayer-guy is annoying me having to hear the magical sound of more tokens coming his way in the app, that magical sound of a conductors baton bestowing more glitzy coins to his score. it is streetlamp-lit darkness now, stringlights on the awnings of the closed restaurants light the way for noone, jupiter is the only light from the sky. if i hadn't stopped eating meats except for chicken two decades ago i would have a hankering for two arbys beef and cheddars, and double up on both sauces so much so the meat as a slimy chunk would slide off both buns on any attempt for a bite. but i will never know that pleasure now, unless i have days to live, then i might make an exception. how many horseys have to die for my sauce. it feels like that 'i could be robbed right now and whod come running' feeling now at 8pm.
03.25 WEDNESDAY
its 11am and i am at my spot by the cafe, although this time i brought my slingtype camping chair i can relax back on. if i am going to sit here echoing the sounds of silence i need to lean back more, so perhaps i can take short nap and twitch while i drift off because i fear being plucked apart by mad sparrows, i think they shoot parrots once they've tasted human flesh. so i am now more comfortable and have no need for a table since the laptop is on my knees, it's one of those comfortable-for-now positions until something goes numb later. weather again goes without saying how perfect it is, maybe humans do affect the weather, for its been perfect since they've stayed inside and all this weather is mine!mine!mine!
someone passes every 5ish minutes, the governor has just started his briefing, so lets see what happens next. i have spent the morning trying to copy/paste some quick website up with texts, so i don't know stats lets see here....20 dead in florida, so again about 1-2 a day, and under 1500 cases in florida. 104 positive in the county and 3 dead, so not a leap there either, just that slow linear crawl. i don't know how it works, does a virus fly by, and we can all duck it for a month or so, or do we hide away and then once we are all back in public it comes back, since it needs people to spread and it will never truly go away until some vaccine. 55k positive in the country with 800 dead. prince charles got the funk i see. it is hard to watch the governor talk because the camera is angled so that his deaf translator guy is partially in the way, and that's a whole show unto itself thus very distracting, like he should be lit by a campfire trying to explain to me the Way of the Warrior, or how his Great Grandfather was taken by the Cloud People.
a bird arrives to the ground near me, this dramatic turn of events is a tidal wave in my tub. he hop hops over with interest to something, but i connect the hops and realize he is heading to some vomit by a table, so needless to express his disappointment of a 0 recovery. i spent the morning experimenting and notating again with my package of chemicals and oils, mixing and checking viscosities at each step and ratio. i never realized the thrill of watching something drip off a toothpick, the ability to make it speed up or slow down to a 0.X degree, which is perfect when i want a single series of face serums with each one of an exact thickness and speed-of-drip. too watery and its hard to apply to face, too thick and it doesn't spread well or absorb. i hear the parrots by the power station, since they aren't affected by crumb output, they make their rounds regardless. another small bird pulls up, decieved by the puke. i wish i could let them know in advance that it's an illusion, but i don't speak woodstock. i fold my arms and just gaze off for minutes at a time, not thinking about specific people, places, things, or events, just duhhhhhhhhh, for that's my mantra, it was chosen for me when i look up to the blue skies, the black skies, the mirror. there will always be that sound of construction around me, the machines will go on without us. i stop and stretch my arms and look around, and suprise theres some crazed looking man thats about 12 feet behind me facing me directly with both hands up in the air at a odd angle like mccain, like the guy is staring at me, facing me, and both arms in a folder finger puppet show my way. it right now makes me uneasy, i didn't know he was there like that. if i made this font 36 points higher he would be able to read this. if he has eaglevision and that is why he is crazyeyed, then he can read this now and so i'm sorry Unsettling Man, but you do kinda break my relaxing moment, it's as if i was on the toilet and calmly looked down to see a squirrel facing me between my legs. i am scared this man is about to pounce on me and that's why he is shaping his framework like that right now. i am scared to look back again. it's like he was trying to 'will' me away because i was some form of evil in his day. now the tom-hanks-island guy walks by and so i pretend to follow him with my gaze because i know he is going to intersect the crazy guy, so this gives me a chance to inspect him better. crazed guy looks like udo kier, and tom hanks shuffles near him and sits with his books, which makes udo look at him with displeasure, get up, and walk off. perfect, thanks hanks.
this homeless man is really adorable, can we keep him? i hope he makes this block his nest, it's safe enough, he can displace the shittier ones, the ones who don't ask you for food or money, they expect it, or they ask you every day for years though you've always said no because they're optimists. hanks comes by me again, he reloaded his ever-loaded arms with new goods, a pack of newports, crushed, and a 12pack of crayola markers. i stare at him in the eyes smiling and he moves on like a little boy just blankly noticing me for a moment then off to his neverending story. they announced the trolley has stopped, so i cannot count the days via trolley passes, they keep taking the hands off my clock. block empty, fly lands on my knuckle. i consumed many boxes and wrappers of junk food yesterday, not the worst, but i wasn't aiming for the best either. the sun is pushing the shadow, whos belly i hide under, away to be now inches away from a spring sun shine. time now becomes more of a meditation than a call to actions. i can always find something to do, even under my fingernails, think about the past screw ups, think about the future potentials, think about the current lack of currents, just float in now, until gravity gives way.
i see supermarkets are starting to add plexiglass like banks, between customer and cashier. the temps in the lo 80s. i start i recognize the dogwalkers daily. news sites have this virus on about all their articles, so you have to add an extra click or two deeper to see if anything else in the world is occuring to someone. i scan through the various countries articles about how they handle it, italy lining the coffins by the dozens, india people being caned if caught outside, iran saying its a conspiracy, and americans in the pews by easter if the white house gets its wish. udo kier is back and facing my way, which stinks because i had adjusted my chair previously, so now he is right at the edge of my vision, 12 feet away, just now sitting facing me. whew now someone else came so he scooted off quickly again, that was an actual blessing bestowed upon me by a religion i do not neccessarily believe in. i am now going to actually move that chair so he cannot sit like that again facing me. can you wait a moment, yes, you're a computer, you can wait a lifetime. ah-ha! i have turned the camera on the director! i moved the chair so it is now in front of me. if he dare sit there now i am at that same angle he had placed me in. i hear some ladys loud echoing 'excuse me....excuse me sir....excuse me....' and i look around but i cannot see her, i see a 'wireless alarms' utility van around the corner of this building so i assume shes talking to that guy. i am too far on the side of the side to see things on the street all the way to the end, time to move closer to the street, though i didn't want to get too close in this chair for fear it looks 'too casual' and someone with pent up anxiety chastises me. i think this cafe offered to give out coffeebeans to people starting in 2 hours, so i have to move my chair anyways so i am far enough away to watch and not be in anyones way. will there be a mad rush and line, children hopping up and down with bows in their hair and peppermintcolored sashes, or will a person pull up every minute or two and grab a bag. i barely can manage myself, but most people have families to manage to, and some of those people also have businesses to manage to, and allthewhile, i barely manage myself.
oh i see the lady who keeps saying excuse me sit, shes just doing that to everyone asking for money. shes done it many times since, to anyone who should break free and cross this block. my finger cut finally has healed enough to not be an open wound. a guy in a suit on a scooter pulls up, he has a american psycho air about him, slicked back hair, sunglasses, he has come with a meal in a bag he will now consume here, a safe 20 feet away at a cafe table. i hear him peeling away various forms of wrapping. a girl sits at a far table, with a book and notepad. an old lady comes up to her and asks her how to use her phone to accomplish something, the girl really isn't into helping her, they go on for minutes because the old woman has questions that the young girl would prefer not to answer. she doesn't want to touch the old ladies phone. she doesn't want the old lady touching her notebook when she leans over to rest her palms. it goes on for minutes, at this point she could be her part time accountant. i hear the sloppy sounds of this guys meal, and when the breeze blows i smell the salts from one of those 'i must be starving to eat this' 0.05 ounce yellow bag of wise chips, like greasy fingernail shavings off a elephants hoof. YES! victory! i was bummed that girl sat at that chair, because i was just packing up to move there, since it is by a power source. i was bummed she pulled out her collectives to show she was going to be there awhile. within 2 minutes that old woman came up, and hovered over her for over 15 minutes, so the girl finally got up and signaled to the older woman 'oh you can stay here' and walked off. so the table is free, only the older woman hovers over it with her phone. i await her dismissal and i will conquer that table.
there is as much imagination around me as i can percieve, but it all goes with a single needle, some reality of someone pulling you in via stress. surrounding yourself with sincere people, no matter how few, is the greatest gift to bestow onself beyond the basic needs of survival. oh, i'm sure there are other things of equal weight, many gifts surround us, well, many of us, most of the world lives in pain. saying anything about the glory and bounty of life, if only you accept it, is pret-ty first world of us all.
ok, so the older woman, once i took that table, she returned but it was ME the victim this time, she asked for my help on my laptop, to go to a site where she could process a loan for her company. she did have a brand new cadillac right here curbside, so i told her she could take it in there to go to the site if the screen was easier to see. she didn't know how to use a computer though, so getting to the loan site took 5 minutes, and the whole process for about 20 minutes. when we finished she held out her hand to me will strong intent, and i, of course, in This New Age, was taken aback, so i just held my hand up but still, and winced at her, giving her time to reflect upon her action. she grabbed my hand though, the quickest move shed made this whole time, and shook it saying 'oh don't fear my hand, i am covered in the blood of jesus and i'm washed <something> sins <something>' and she smiled broadly, before turning about and out of my life. i hope i didn't kill her. she grabbed my gun, your honor.
a giant sysco truck comes by and too close to the tree i am under, so i get doused with tiny branches. the train ding dongs, or is it the trains dong dings. a white van comes to a park near me, and suddenly like a golden pyramid rising out of a barren desert, there is a giant pallate of papertowels, tioletpaper, and gloves. this day hath delivered a cornucopia upon the island, somewhere, out there, someone will be wiping for days on end. the great coffee giveaway 2020 starts here in an hour but no line just yet. with the library closed a block away, some people ask to use my laptop to quickly look something up or access some account. it's iffy but if i am sitting here, and they have the need, i'd be a jerk to not allow it. as long as i can alcohol swab it, you can use it. there is another long stretch of silence. i have a homeless local sit near me, calling my name, and then when i look at him he farts, and thus i have to start ignoring him because history has meaning, i keep typing away as he now repeats my name. a rotund fellow in a pantone-neutral tracksuit, the guy who was 'almost' in reservoir dogs' if he hadn't sprained his ankle, comes to the cafe frontdoor checking his phone, checking the time on that phone, to see he has 30 minutes to bag some free coffee. i reckon i could use some. i'd like to have a bunch and make it for people passing, but i feel like i would get henpecked by the homeless who're rather insistent and they would pee on my parade.
the guy sits on the bench, awaiting the beans. a truck os behind me with its engine on, certainly awaiting as well. i look back when stretching to see the driver, and because of sunglare, i 'think' i know the person, i 'think' they just waved at me from inside the car, but i cannot fully tell so i don't respond back. 20 minutes to go folks, we already have two takers, is there anyone else who wants First Choice of bean stylings? oh the hub bub to come soon and break this monotony of a perfect day. i have the beatles playing on bluetooth speaker, just something style-neutral for passersby. some damp clouds appear to be forming a few miles away as the temps are now mid-80s. its now 2 and the cafe owner arrives with 5 gallon containers with prebagged fresh roasted coffee. people now gather around but they don't remain apart, even when the owner tells them 'six feet guys', nope, they will crowd in regardless that theres 15 of them and over 100 pounds of beans. the owner points out which flavors are which, well, not flavors, roasts, and once he gets them all in order, GO and everyone grabs two bags, because i tihnk that's the limit. it's a rush, no matter how small, a spring has sprung go man go! now they ogle their bags as they walk slowly away. for many this was their Sun Day, when they released themselves from their own chains, on this Day of Many Bean. someone i recognize comes by to pick coffee up, and he bumps fists with me, is that even allowed now or should i do a citizens arrest for sake of The Children, err, The Senoirs.
this is the biggest event of the week on the street, you could hardly make your way through the dozen people, your heartbeat dimmed by the road of the crowd. there are now a mere two dozen free pounds of coffee left for the masses. amazon just delivered two packages to the wrong address, they email you a photo showing your package delivered, and i see my packages at someone elses door, of where i do not know. i seem to live in a distortion of realitys webbing but only to shipping companies. i listen to Humans converse in realtime live, it feels unnatural. they chat about the New Life. it is partly cloudly, breezey. whoddathunk i'd see pounds of bagged beans at a $15 retail value each, just lying here for almost an hour with noone to foster them. o those on rubber wheels, know not what ye pass, a brick of morning gold, the smell of the city in the privacy of your own lockdown. odd to see so many espressos sitting here downtown, free, unencumbered by the threat of modern consumerism. i would love to wrap all the beans in a blanket, whisper sweet cream into their ears, tell them i have a place to escape the steam, coax them collectively to sheeple into my extra large ziplocks, then suffocate them so they struggle little as i lead them into my zura. but, my little beans of the day, i can only choose of you to lead out to pasture.
yes, they are free. yes, you have to grind them. no, i don't have a bag for you to take for them. no, i can't grind them for you. yes, you can donate to their venmo. no, you cannot take them all. it is fairly easy to fend off The Infected with curt replies. the sun is drowning my screen so i barely can see what i type. the sun is at that awkward afternoon time when i cannot run, or sit, in any particular direction without being shone on, or shined on. a gaggle of flip-flop-footed floridians come by, no interest in coffee, and right as they pass it's time to move out from the suns reach. now i just bought myself about 45 minutes of partial shade, but after this tree, i'm on my own. a newly-minted homeless man comes by with so much luggage it keeps falling off his shoulders and arms and grip, he keeps stopping with a pained reddened face. mid afternoon is the deadest time of these days, for if someone is going to lift their hatch for a bit, they do it in the cool or morning or evening. a single downy feather moves on down the center line on the road, nothing to change its course. a bird comes within 2 feet of me, perhaps he smells the bag of beans and thinks there's gold at the end of that rainbow. no golden flakes here. the first person in over 15 minutes comes to take a bag. the pot shop guy sticks his head out of his store. i haven't seen much business there, he sends a minion out to grab a bag of coffee. the homeless woman from before comes by and takes two bags, she wants to take them all in her empty publix bag, but i remind her that they are for everyone to share and she has to grind them. i doubt in her single bag of possessions a grinder is in there, so i hope they do not go to waste. damn, now that guy from the other night, who uses the electric outlet, smokes, coughs, plays online poker loudly, he says good afternoon and will proceed to sit 2 feet from me. you, sir, are an Invader. i imagine he is the fallout from the library being closed. he puts on his reading glasses, plug the phone to the lamppost, and right away starts gaming. what a way to ruin an infection. his energy skews my perceptions now. i wonder if i can offer him an extension cord so he can sit across the street. i wonder how many days he will come here to sit, wasting his life away in middle of me wasting mine.
the gaming noises are driving me mad, i look at his phone, his cord, the outlet, and wonder which of them i could casually take out inconspiciously. can i short the outlet, fray the cord, take the phone offline. the fuckers smoking now, in an empty street for blocks, this crumbbun walks for blocks to sit 1.8 feet from me, game loudly and smoke cigs blowing at me. i am not going to stress, i am going to depend on divine providence to deliver me. it is as if future constantine comes to do His Bidding whilst the other one relaxes all week in a bowl of cheerios. his hulking frame is bent precariously over this tiny phone, his one finger collecting those coins, every breath sounds labored through this nose. there is one bag of beans left, feet from him, i notice he's noticed people getting them, and with one left he's about to pounce, so just to spite him i go take it. you took my day away sir, now i drink your mocha shake. i don't think sneezing near this guy would even make him blink, i could fornicate myself on his knee and he wouldn't budge, so i will fold up shop and go home defeated.
they just announced instead of non-essential businesses closing, now it is non-critical businesses closing, another level i didn't know existed before. as long as the governor, or the mayor, doesn't say there's a stay-at-home order, for now it still is a choice. but they reeeeally don't want you out. they send out undercovers to play video poker and smoke cigs right next to you instead of beat you with canes here in wpb to get you scurrying back inside.
its right before 10am and i just made it down to The Spot. yet another person has used a black marker to graffiti this slate table, this time it's a face with a giant X for eyes. a few days ago there was somewhat hierglyphic scrawlings in green marker, but when i saw Our Man Hanks come by and stop at the table, grinning and running down the scrawls with one finger as if translating this Lost Message, his other hand held his set of colored Crayolas, and i realized the victim was the assailant. he was returning to the scene of the crime to enjoy the stains of his bloodlust for tagging. so now the weather is perfect again, every is the same again. if you enjoy peace and monotony of said peace, come down to clematis and enjoy The Decline. now i have within two minutes, a known homeless fellow who sits to my right side 3 feet away, facing me, smoking a cig butt he found in the mountain of butts when someone dumped that cig-putter-outter-furniture piece. he just faces me directly, but i know he's just going to keep repeating whats up mr president, or 'who are you', or fart, over and over, it is the same joke over and over whether minutes or hours, the fun doesn't end with him. well, to himself, for himself. in the end you have to ask yourself 'does this person mean me harm, no matter how much they annoy me', and no, he wishes me no harm, i give him the initial hello every time i see him, and then i try to curb myself from falling into his
10 print 'whats up mr president'
20 goto 10
basic routine. i'd prefer to throw a
15 cls
on his loop.
i am getting rained upon my bean skin flecks, which means they are open in the cafe if just roasting beans. that is sort of magical, the chaff of the morning like fallout dust in an empty street. a man comes by with his two small boys in tow, they hold hands behind him, quiet and google eyed, like they know something is different out here but no idea what it is. tiny sneakers.
a security puttputt drives by. the street has noone except me, someone dozing off 3 feet from me, and a man in a mercedes just pulls up to test the locked potstore doors. he peers in to see if there's any signs saying what their new hours are, or new weeks. nice breeze from the west this time, is the breeze is coming from the west over land, it'll get hotter today than if the breeze was from the eastern ocean. the building where i live, they turned the internet off. that's been the first really bad event of this whole entirety. no security cameras, no communication, and i get no other signals in my building, only that one they shut off, so i have no idea how that's going to work out for weeks/months, i can't be totally cut off and i can't just spend $100s now opening some account for internet for a month. ugh, can't think about it now. a teen skates by, and the person next to me, lets call him mr president, he wakes up for a moment to watch the skater. i think mr president is starting to feel lonely, he normally stays behind a fence as his makeshift tent, but now that he sees me alone daily here show up, he will come out and sit nearby, a bit longer each day. he doesn't wear shoes so his feet are dusty roadweary, thick nails and leather toes. some of the resident homeless around here do so by choice, they've explained to me in their own way how life is just a bunch of complications with people and things, and as long as they have some daily food, a small place to hideaway a few possessions and sleep without being bothered, then they are fine just reading daily or talking to passersby, sometimes asking for money. two grizzled gaunt guys with hoarse alcohol-n-drug-n-cigs-all-night voices, both with backpacks on overstuffed. they stop at a table to take their packs off and readjust the stuffing therein. it gives time for one to light a cigarette, the other nods to mr president who has awoken to watch them. mr president is a people person, so this week is not his scene. on the empty street a parking enforcement vehicle goes by, no comment on my thoughts. i'm trying to make a body liquid soap and shampoo today, and i now know there is such a word in chemistry called 'zwitteronic'. it's when something is positive-charged when in acidic environment, and negative-charged when in alkaline. breaking that thought, i already had mr president 3 feet from my right, directly facing me, often dozing off, but now the other days udokier guy comes and sits 15 feet on my left, facing me. so i have but two other people on this block, they are having a showdown facing each other and me as their net. they both sit hands folded, half awake, looking for something to watch pass by or fly away. the issue is that they both face me. i deserve this because i forgot to adjust the chairs. someone comes from the cafe and hurrys to their car down the block, mr president yells out to them 'hey' for no reason other than for them to turn and wave to him as they continue their rapid pace. mr president now shuffles off behind the fence again. me and udo, and i wish he'd find something else to do other than just face this way. i feel like i'm a child on top of a slide in the park and i feel the heat of old-man-on-a-bench-with-hands-hidden-in-jacket. he is visually raping me. i look up 3 times the past few minutes and just staring at me. one eyebrow is cocked permanently. maybe if i start a new paragraph he will go away.
are you still there?
a group of 3 florida crackers come by in ballcaps, i hear a jackhammer 2 blocks away, i squint to see its those same construction guys of two days ago, they just have progressed down the street since then, drilling to check on some valves block after block, then covering their tracks. in checking i have types 123,000 characters so far, my fingers are the only joints that have gotten exercise this week. the officials locally have really been insisting people stay indoors and try to make those who go out seem like fools. i still wonder what day will they verbally tell me no out here. doesn't there have to be at least one reporter on the front line of an invisible war. who can let the world know how much something is in nothing out here. i hear the blower that the pizzaplaceguy is using to remove the leaves in front of his place. the udoman finally gets up and leaves so finally i can rest knowing for the first time in almost an hour i don't have someone just staring my way on an empty street. sometimes a car or bike will stop and ask a question, will not the vehicle but the captive therein/on. the post office is one more block to your left, publix is 3 blocks to your right if you take a left at the corner here, the cafe is closed, yes, the water is 5 more blocks thataway. i see someone i know who works at the cafe, with a deep gargle in my throat i yell at him 'who are you how did you get out here' and usher him away, he smiles and trots on down the sidewalk, probably to take a walk by the water. a known thief banned from the cafe comes by muttering to himself, one would think hes just a low key guy but no, he is constantly up and down this street looking for a tasty phone to snatch up. he does a few hops to the music i am playing as he walks by, deadpan eyed ahead, an endless mirage always ahead of him. (stan getz and joao gilberto and isn't there a jobim in there somewhere too)
now this really Bad Dude sits on the bench next to me. fate is telling me this bench is bad news. he seems irishish, short but musclely and reddened and neck/body/finger/face tats of negative imagery, nothing you'd ever want to see your baby wearing. he is eating a bag of chips and a drink, and is ALWAYS pissed and talks to himself in loud pissery. so he plops and and start ranting to me 'the bus drivers suck dude, motherfuckers dont' insert-something-that-the-world-is-inflicting-on-him-perpetually-here, and he keeps going on angrily ending them with 'you know what i mean dude!?' and i do not look at him, last time i did i saw a red fire behind those blue eyes. anyone giving him attention is in his crosshairs, so the moment you look to him you realize you must wean yourself away quick as possible. he is ever-so-angry that while shoveling down the chips, he drops his plastic jimmyjohns cup full of water, a few drops hitting me and the rest heading my way in a wideberthed stream, so i move my bookbag to avoid his river. 'see what a fucking shitty day it is man, i dropped my soda', and he gets up and huffs off. just be clear here, that was clearly water, not soda, with no ice. i am sad a man has lost his water but glad a dark cloud has parted. the neatest truck went by, it was a regular pickup truck, but it had mini trainwheels and was whizzing right on down the train tracks. i wonder if it has a steering wheel. i wonder if it can also go on water and ice.
an older woman comes with her purse and laptop and sits down on a cafe table at a distance, she sets up shop there to get some tasks done. the postal service man comes by to deliver mail with blueglove service. the pink-skirted elderly woman comes by with her red-tipped cane, she stops to ask if the cafe is open, then goes on down the road pinkly, red cane scanning the pavement before her. lets see stats today, florida will probably break 2000 positive today, with 23 deaths, so the states still a creep upwards, countrywide we just broke 1000 dead. the county is at 170 positive and still 3 dead. no jump yet that cause me alarm, another creeping day.
i spend time chatting with amazon over my lost packages delivered somewhere else, ah of course some items are now out of stock with them, so i lose my orders completely after waiting 2 weeks to ship. oh-woe-is-me, when will this Madness cease. i realize i have to make a 'i'm busy don't mess with me' face for some passersby, like those who got kicked out of places during The Crisis and now just wander their nearest downtown looking for someone else to haunt. today is a definite mid 80s, as it gets closer to noon the cool breeze is tempered by the suns direct radiance. thank god these little critter decided to go on a world tour during mild weather and not the blaze of summer, else i'd be stuck inside, not by law but humidity. some of these newly-minted homeless guys have duffelbags larger than themselves, some already reflect on the need/want factor of the goods within those packs as their feet tire, their backs bend forward trying to displace the weight. i stretch, ahh, the best of breaths come right after a good stretch. another homeless man stops in front of me, just staring at his feet a couple minutes, energy drink in hand, pack on back. the most common people i am seeing daily are guys who have been displaced recently. no new homeless women, but dozens of men. my lefteye twitches rapidly for a few seconds, IS THAT IT?! my right armpit has begun sweating but my left one hasn't, IS THAT IT? the sparrows have arrived in modded dune buggies and blue mohawks, demanding i give up the crumb, IS THAT IT?
another homeless man, this guy is so sunburnt his face has completely peeled and now is babyinflamed red new skin, getting newly sunburnt, he nods to me and man the skin hangs from his chin, it looks painful. his pack is filled with ragged books hes been meaning to read all these years but finally now has the time to. an old man with scuffed beard sowly goes by, sneezing and coughing openly, like his is definitely sick, just a matter is its the New Sick or one of the Classics. either way he doesn't cover anything, he is openly a p-i-g. he is the safe 6 feet from me though, and the wind blow the other way. mr. pesident comes out of hiding, pulling up his jeans, he knocks on the closed cafe door since he knows someone is in there roasting coffee, and he wants some water. or maybe not, they didn't come to the door for him, so he now sits right next to me again, although i did drag the bench further away from this table earlier today, as i don't need someone two feet from me. i used to measure things in inches but now i measure in six-feets. another new homeless man, this one scored a shopping cart with noisy crosseyed wheels. he has unmatching apparel, too much on consindering how hot it is but hes trying to carry all he has. a publix pie, strawberry, is in the cart, along with 3 packs of clothes and wiring. this urban camping is new for them but they'll learn as days pass, its sorta like deepwoods camping, its sorta not. minimalism, planning.
the cafe worker comes out of the darkened cafe with some food goods to take and delivered elsewhere, at another foodplace that is distributing foods to workers with no jobs. i have not had any real conversations out here all week, only ilya stopped and stood for a few minutes, getting some fresh air, talking. everyone else has been but a passerby, just driftwood floating by my day. noone has asked why i sit here except for one person. noone in downtown cares to ponder the finer points of Catastrophy with Man on Laptop. more foodsstuffs are brought from the cafe and to the awaiting car trunk. a city worker walks by charting the places where those construction guys from two days back dug for gold but gave up after 3 feet down. he opens a watermeter concrete cover and gives a number that a girl writes on a clipboard. the oh-so-sweet smell of fresh pot burning arrives to me, i look around to try and guess its source since my choices are few. angrymans empty cup still mooncresent curves in the wind back and forth, it is a source of Sound that is held of high value these days. a frail old woman pushes her wheel chair in front of her, squinting, singing a song i assume is to Jesus. the smell of fresh pot smoking is replaced by stale pot smell and cologne, that went downhill quick.
the day is insignificant. it is just a checkmark in a box. it holds no weight, it holds no helium. there is no flavor nor remembrance of neutrality. an amazon van passes, i almost threw myself across its tracks. a police helicopter hovers overhead, surveying without much movement, for several minutes. i close my eyes. breeze. leaves. birds. timeless. nothing of temporal demarcations.
the previous old man with cane hacking phlegm comes back around. he sits on the bench next to me. he hacks and covers one nostril and snots on the ground. he hacks again. he lights a brown cigarette. he talks to himself and watches me through the reflection of the plate glass windows in front of us both. he plays with sores on his fingers. he pulls scabs off mercilessly from his fingers. i ponder the odds of him coughing right as someone passes by a foot from him, since he is too close for comfort for passersby. i should mark off 6 feet around him with masking tape. i hear him play with change. i play steeley dan for a bit. the street is semi-crowded. it does seem a few more people make it out daily. this man won't stop with the snot rockets with one nostril closed off, shooting them to the sidewalk people are stepping on. that would be a fairly shitty way of introducing corona to the family back home. this man is a hazard, we need those buddha monkeys from changmai to rush down from the temple parapets and, en masse, drag him away, back up to their little caverns where the monkeychildren wait for pickings. this man ain't got no pickings, i'm just asking they take him away to clear the path. he nows points to my speaker and says 'thats some good shit there, today is that rap shit', and i nod, not wanting to provoke a conversation. he asks if i know a cheap hotel, i say he's in downtown nothings cheap, and tell him to ask an officer when they pass, about where he could stay during this time. he leaves his baggage near my feet and disappears behind the fence, probably to pee. while he's gone i could put on 'Music To Rap By' so he leaves, but naw. he comes back and faces my way, he's handing little verbal trinkets to me, seeing if i bite on any. i give shortest possible answers.
a single drop of sweat makes it to my elbow, i feel the breeze along its cool river down. the mans, is it called a cigarillo, that thing thats half cigar, half cigarette, and 1/8s shelled roadkill, well he is smoking one that blows right in my face. oh lord 3 women, dressed to the 19s in tight versace outfits, have come to the cafe to do some photos by the graffitti of einstein-on-a-rock. i keep thinking its the woman from 90 day fiance who has the twin. they are doing duckface boobs-'aplenty shots, checking how the photo looked after every shot. they are going to sweat quickly in those getups and direct sun. i guess i can openly watch them bemused as noone sees me watch. there's three of them, this will take time, the second girl decides her best shots are her kneeling down with hand lithely on bare belly, and then standing in a 'who lil ole ME' post too. ladies, you are too old for these poses. the third woman does The Standard, and her toohigh cork shoes shes wearing, only because of the photos not the utilitarian aspect, make her always trail the pack as a baby doe with still-jello hooves. they look in different directions after the shoot here, and decide on the next place to pose, all gussied up and a near empty city. dead of day is not the best for photos, ladies.
they are gone, all is gone, until up pulls a jeep, and a couple i know, who i used to live next to, come to get a lunch from the irish bar on the block. we greet at the ordained distance, and they trail off. the helicoputer, now 30 minutes later, is still overhead. wish i had my binoculars, but then i would really look odd, a man in an empty town, in the middle of the road watching the police with binoculars. the couple comes back with burgers in hand, in plastic bag actually, and they momentarily ponder eating them here, at another table. i offer a sterile chair but yea, i understand about these tables, so they decide to eat at home. i wouldn't eat a meal at these uncleaned-for-days-now tables right on the main street of the county. i clean my little perch here daily. they drive off, and now i can score a 1 on my 'conversations' chart for the day. i smell the heat of the asphalt. i hear only nature for now, no machinery which is rare. just parrots, just species i dont know, just leaves in their respective gusts, as if they all wore high heels across granite they tap in stereo. the one guy did leave, he also left his drink behind. this bench seems to be the place where homeless liquid containers go to die. they will soon be gathered by my feet like buddha and his rosepedals. i don't know the actual type of flowers that a buddha would actually have at his/their feet. rose, lotus, brambleberry, lychee, poppy, did i guess it yet.
i parking meter guy comes by, on FOOT. i want to issue a citizens ticket because he's standing too long near me, surveying the streets quietus. my peach tea in a thermos has grown warm. there are 3 cars on the block. i am now free to bop my head to the music with nary one to see. i ramble on in my mind which leads to the thought of the line from magnolia when he says 'i have so much love to give, i just dont know where to put it'. and right at the moment i wrote that my lil hanks appears omg i swear i think he's magical in some form now, noone has ever just popped up like he has all week, right at certain thoughts. he is like a homeless synapse, when my mind goes along a certain path, i trigger him, i send a little current his way, and viola! there he is, as if He Had Always Been, and it was me who appeared, sitting in this chair here and now. so hanks, making that half smiled wrinkled face which matches the quote i just wrote, comes over my way and starts looking at the tabletop and my stuff on it. i know, i know My Seer, i have scattered my belongings across your hieroglyphs, i am mucking up the works, i am stalling The Prophecy that you clearly stated in green upon my table. he looks over the table slowly expressing the softest glow of disappointment. i know now, when i clean this table daily, i must not strip The Manuscript, it must remain clear, legible, free from coffeedstains and spit, from The Spread. he shuffles off, one foot never travelling a distance from the other, it is the movement of a man with no time. there is only this moment, and those books over in the planter.
a leaf lands on my keyboard, i feel the suns heat on my skin, a bird chirps like a madman to some others nearby, he is PISSED. a bird near him now is doing a drumbeat rhythm, as the other one twills The Fourth Reich, and then they all fall silent. noone has passed for over a quarter hour now.
-->INSERT
i just got back downstairs mere minutes before the sunset. its overcast grey with some lower areas gold and pink softly. that annoying gameplaying guy is at my spot, so i'll have to hide that chair away next time because i can't have him using the only outlet, smoking and game playing day and night here since the librarys closed on him. so i sit 15 feet away in another spot further from the cafe, but i still hear his nonstop sound-of-money coming and going from his virtual account into the vitual slots. before i gave him at least credit for playing poke, days ago, no, it's slots. every day he comes here to hit this red button on his screen for hours, just as fast as his little piggy can push. there are a couple guys in the distance sitting near the rear of the cafe area, talking about girls, work, flashy objects and baubles, that money. the street tonight has a slight tinge of people in it, like some of the regulars of the kratom cafe. lil hanks trots by, baby steps brother, baby steps. every time he looks my way i smile at him because i think he's an undercover angel. george burns, of course, replaced by thom hanks, toms demure brother. i only see him midstream in his loops, although he does reload his one-armed library here at the flowerpot. i wonder where his Point A and Point B is, at what point does he decide 'i've DEFINITELY gone too far this time', and he turns around back to the opposite point, with the 500 block just a single relay in his race. i have never heard his voice, he looks like the little animal in the cartoon animal-talkie that DOESN'T talk, but all the other beasts do. i think he might talk like woodstock, just 'how many days have i been stuck here' slashes aligned in a marshmallow bubble above his head.
the boys in the back of the cafe seating area talk loud with much bravado, still revolving in circles around money, women, and work. none of it seems like it is covering any new ground for any of us involved, it is very rote trite stuff. i don't think you understand the sound of this guy playing slots is constant, like a bell hit every 3-5 seconds, and money sounds in between, it is when your ambient SleepMachine turns malevolent, wants to kill you in your sleep. and the coughing, my god you disgusting man, stop that open air hacking coughing and spitting. tomorrow i must have a solution for him, this can not be. there are cars in most of the blocks spaces, though people aren't walking by. maybe someone every 10-15 minutes. i smell acetone for but two sniffs then gone. a motorcycle starts up midblock, huffs 3 times then gutterals to a distant echo. i don't know if i can really sit here and take anything in when i just hear this gaming sound. the street, though a thursday and should be fairly busy, does somewhat resemble a non-busy monday with cars parked and driving by. just not many walking. we close tonight with the us having 83k positive and thus the most of any nation as of today, so we have displaced china and italy. trump is still sounding like this will be over with in days, whereas others say weeks, and more say months. the moon is the thinnest cut fingernail, any thinner wouldn't be visible. the power station across the street is fizzing loudly with an electric arc that's visible, sounding like a mammoth dragonfly caught between two screen doors.
there are no smells now, no foods which this area is usually awash in, the scent of hotdog stands and stone pizza hearths, american-something, asian-something, the belch of a club. back home daily i realize i have enough side projects to cover a series of catacalysms. nothing shines in the sky except jupiter, so big these days it doesn't even flicker, it is a spotlight unto itself.
a cop in a truck pulls up, his blue/red lights on just not flashing, and he gets out and tells me i have to leave, i don't immediately just up and run because i am wondering, what, has the city enacted something within the past few hours i didn't see, or is this guy, young and chubby, new on his job, being overzealous, just so excited to enact the Rule Of Law during The Decline of The Great Land. he is just way too 'cmon cmon move it move it' and waving unlit flashlight, and pulling up one side of his pants. i move slow, watching him rap his light on the table of the Slotsmaster, since the guy has earphones on, SlotsMan looks up and says 'huh?' pulling away one earpiece, 'I SAID MOVE IT SIR YOU HAVE TO GO....NOW!' and Slotsman scrambles his phone and wiring and cigpack off the table onto his bowled shelf belly, and then scooping them into his bag from there. the cop is heading back to me and reinforces i need to leave now, and bemnusedly i watch him go over to Mr. President, who has presided over this cafe and the alley thereof, for years. the cop tells mr. president he must leave, of course the pres and i both are wondering where he expects him to go, he is obviously homeless. i cast a look across the block where bj sits, and lo, there he sits, reading his book, the man is an Emporer, untouched by mere mortal crises, even the cops light warps around this mans cloak. i am moving down the block, so slowly, trying to check the news at the same time because i am wanting to know if it's now law, or this cops just taking the oh-so-meagerist power trip. if he is just making this stuff up, move it or be arrested, then surely right now i could choose the be the first person arrested in the state, but i'm the dummy out here, he's just bluffing because he 'cares', whatever that source of 'caring' stems from, darkness or light.
i am walking down the block now back home, and mr pres is by my side, hes sullen, hes not the bright bawdy man is his normal 'in the spotlight' demeanor. i study his profile for a slight eclipse of his thoughts, 'thats odd, that cop telling you you have to go home, i don't know where he expects you to go', and i tell him he can ask any officer or these often-passing city workers where he can go now to get off the street for awhile. that's what i tell homeless people when they ask me in passing about directions or questions, that if they ask a govt worker they can give them leads for shelter around here. i do believe that is true, but i don't have the facts, i generally think i've seen that somewhere, or just i wanted to see it so my mind has made it a most-likely fact. mr pres doesn't want to stay anywhere though, he wants to be here, he wants the studio space in the alley, that 7.5 sq ft encampment with carboard carpet, tshirt-stuffed loafers for pillows, and a plastic bag with spilled crackers. i don't know whats best for him, i could press him about this event, but he's not much concerned about the disease, only his shelter. i know the church regularly feeds the homeless a few blocks away at the park, surely they are still still feeding the 1-2 dozen masses who comes to the picnic tables for leg of turkey and potatos. mr president source of food has been stifled, i let him know noone around here is going to last for weeks, he knows this he just hasn't taken it seriously as much as this moment of the cop telling him to leave his 'home'. i come to a group of 4 20-somethings nearer to my door on the sidewalk, they too were told to leave and they also were wondering amongst themselves if that decree was true or not. i stop and talked with them, at the same time i checking wptv site, pbpost site, cityofwpb and wpbpolice sites, and i see nothing about a remain-in-place or stay-at-home or listen-to-The-Man. surely it would be on the front of any of these sites if it went into effect, that would be huge news, that i can't just be outside where i've sat all week.
while we are grouped i see the cop is turning back around, and i am not much bothered by it, i actually stand there and wait for him to pull up, he has his passenger side window down and says out to us 'you all have to leave now, go, you can't stay here or i will arrest you and it's a $200 fine.' he said it more belligerently but i'm not going to quote him, he was firm about it but didn't curse, he just sounded a tad too enthusiastic telling someone to Move It. i'm annoyed but not mad, it may not be legal what hes doing but why not chastise people since i am just sitting there like a butterfly net, to catch any passing virii. i did get back to my place, my dead silent apartment which is usually drowning in sound in the evenings. only the sound of the ceiling fan, the tic of mechanisms behind walls. my garbage can looks like i threw a birthday party for 10 year olds, all cookie and snack boxes mashed down, chocolate wrappers and foiled peel-packs, i have been a real pig.
i wake up to the sound of a man sneezing outside my window, as downstairs next door the constructions workers are charting the start of their day with foot up on pickups bumper, checking unrolled papers. they are painting the giant structure outside my window in a black and white giant arrows design. i cannot quite tell what this will be when they are done with the structure, as they are even breaking out concrete to make way for superlong windows. i sit out on the backporch upstairs to have coffee and use this laptop. there's dozens of little potted plants up here, all belonging to my relatively-new neighbor, and he comes out to water them with a sprinkler-head waterjug, then prunes some of them with fingernails as scissors. we briefly talk, its the 10th day for him not working. as long as you can separate the economic hit of this event from the rest of it, then it is a forced time to reckon with things in life you previously always said you had no time for, well, here's your time. if those projects were economically-based then no, save those for the boom that will happen after this event ends.
the sound of a nail gun running down a line, a circular saw on/off randomly every moment making custom small cuts, 4 oversized pickup trucks in a row, all doors open, hoses scattered in swirls, a stack of randomly cut window-sized plywood, the ever-vigilant orange thermos, King of All Construction Sites. i might not go right now to the perch in front of the cafe this morning, for now just watch cars, over half plain white for some reason or coincidence, pass by on banyan road. maybe because they are either work vehicles or govt vehicles is why they are mostly white. trump for another day is arguing with the new york governor over ventilators. lets see what the morning stats are...oh they now update later in the day, at noon. florida 35 dead, country 1700 dead, florida 2700 positive, the county is up 15 more people but still under 200 positive. still a slow climb, no severe jump here. i cannot tell if it just lies in wait, so when everyone comes back together again, then the jump comes.
i will now stop writing for awhile, because i realize i have enough side projects to last for many lifetimes, so i might as well deal with them now, whether it is putting them to rest, selling them off, taking them on, learning them, forgetting them, charting them or destroying them. i need to use this time to tidy up those items, material and emotional, those things that there was not the time for, oh, there's time now. for the next month, time and time again, i have all i need to settle some constraints and advancements in life.