The sprinklers have ceased scattering droplets of water across the grassy expanse. I am now amongst birds in the morning dampness - they, being the ones who dwell in and about the park. Whereas I am merely a frequent visitor - one who trespasses.
And then suddenly, there he is. Orange Julius. A tiny flittering and fluttering orange breasted bird. I know nothing of birds and their ilk. But this bird, as so designated, makes any and all trips to the park worthwhile. I watch in amazement, its antics clearly shown, capturing free flying bugs just above the grass line.
But that's not what this entry is all about. Let's instead rewind a bit, shall we?
Objectives and Motivation
The mercury measurement bled down to 108° by 7 p.m. Meanwhile, I was hoping for a more precipitous drop, something below the century mark would have sufficed. Avoiding heat stroke was my prime motivator - my goal while going outside during fireworks time.
Witnessing live fireworks on the 4th of July became important to me somewhere around mid-morning. I'd been enjoying my private laptop time (within the alcove portion of the cafeteria) when a dedicated member of the activities group invaded my space, karaoke sound system cart in tow.
It was her gear. The electronic components that would make her vocalized warbling impressively louder, via amplification (and possibly obliteration). She would be the mid-morning performer. The sole singer. The person belting out song after song unimpeded, uninterrupted, and likely underappreciated.
She didn't specifically ask me to leave the area prior to her 10:30 a.m. performance, but that particular message was implied (body language, tone of voice, sinister scowl). However, the precise moment of our initial interaction occurred at 9:45. So I had leeway. Hurray for leeway! And ramp up time.
Besides my particular chosen spot, there's nowhere else to comfortably hang out within and throughout the interior building. Indeed, my current stationing allowed for an obstructed view of the outdoors, more specifically, the inner courtyard. Better than nothing. Much better.
Meanwhile, each of the other hang out options within the interior of the nursing home yield to vastly unimpressive views, a never ending series of wall-to-wall-to-ceiling-to-floor windowless nothingness, subtle traces of abandonment, and outdated decor.
With an insincere smile splashed across my face, I nodded my head in her general direction, politely acknowledging her warning. Yes, I knew she wanted me to vacate right there and right then, but I was feeling rebellious, apparently.
Ten minutes later she turned up and turned on the music. Background music. Songs about freedom. Songs about Jesus and the United States. Songs about an invisible entity ceaselessly blessing America from sea to shining sea. And then Country and Western songs about military people being blown up in Iraq. You know what I mean, right?
With my earbuds wedged ever deeper into my ear holes, I turned the volume up even louder still - in attempts to blot out the high and mighty jingoism being force fed. I mean, I'm all for America. Or at least, parts of me are. But …. eh, I better steer clear. No need to offend the massed patriots amongst us during our nation's birthday celebration.
At 10 minute intervals, the lady that was soon to sing, kept increasing the volume of the background music. Louder and louder it went. But I held out. I wanted to teach her a lesson. Yes, that's exactly what I was teaching her.
I suppose my predisposition towards resisting gets the best out of me on occasion. It's my default mode. Always. And forever more.
Decisions - D.R.I.
Eventually the volume level reached a saturation point. I could no longer think straight. See straight. Curl my toes properly. You know, the usual things you do when you're getting sound-blasted into oblivion.
So I did what any normal red blooded American would do, I left in a huff. I headed back to my room. My Man Cave (um, yeah…. whatever the hell that is). And so decided to make do with what I had —- ummmm… nope, that's not right. In crisis situations most disposable Americans would default to their mass consumerism tendencies by going online and making binge purchases as a means to make themselves feel better and better.
Anyways, I went back to my room to listen to the people down the hallway moan and groan and cry for help. I went back to my room so that I could smell the smells of urine and defecated remnants. Indeed, I went back to my room in order to twist and pout.
Note on "Twist and Pout" : It's a blasphemous combination of The Beatles meets The Cure. Old school music. New school language. An affront to societal bliss.
Anyway, that whole series of non-events riled me up to some extent, so much so that I decided to push the known boundaries. Yes, I'd be going outdoors (against medical advice) to seek out fireworks displays great and loud. So there you have it, a treasonous act against the nursing home elite.
But the temperature. The temperature would need to drop. I wasn't willing to sacrifice my life in order to see fireworks on display. Luckily, the temperature dropped down to an icy cool 103° by the time I worked my way outside. True, there was a hot desert breeze blowing up my shorts. Literally. Keeping me dry. As dry as can be. But sweat equity is meaningless here in these environs. It's all about hydration.
8:45
So of course, following my covert escaping (and once I hit the bike path) my feeding tube machinery went on the fritz. Somehow, every time I go out in the evening for my evening roll my dedicated feeding pump ceases to function. It locks up. Freezes in place. Or boils. Broils? Something bad happens each time. So each time the feeding flow gets blocked I have to head back indoors in relatively short order.
Note 2: the new feeding formula is exceedingly problematic
Anyways, while making my approach I spied shadowy figures up on the pedestrian overpass. And I guessed correctly - they were my people - my homeless friends (well, some of them). It was Kelly and a couple others. The "couple of others" weren't really friendlies. They were more simply head nodding acquaintances. A slight wave of the hand people. Maybe an eyebrow twitch. Those kind of acquaintances.
More important than all of that, my timing was close to perfect. And from that high point above the valley, I could see and witnessed nearly a dozen separate fireworks displays. Blossoming flowers of showering light in the distance, defying gravity and all common sense. Colors a plenty. And then within closer proximity, m80s and m100s blowing up with some regularity. Roman candles launched sky high to the left of me, Roman candles to the right!
Yeah, for twenty minutes solid I witnessed streaking flashes aplenty (drifting west to east) riding the arid breeziness. Non-Stop action. And my friend Kelly was more excited than most, while the non- friendlies were focused on other more pressing matters.
Then after twenty minutes of seasonal abyss, I gave up. Too much heat. Too dry. Too all encompassing.
Kelly seemed disappointed that I'd be departing, but he also understood my hydration concerns. So I rolled back to the village of the damned - feeling alright.
Hope all is well
Howard
Vantage Points -
No Fireworks Images Captured -
Also note, I was a fair amount higher up, perspective wise, once the fireworks launched
And then suddenly, there he is. Orange Julius. A tiny flittering and fluttering orange breasted bird. I know nothing of birds and their ilk. But this bird, as so designated, makes any and all trips to the park worthwhile. I watch in amazement, its antics clearly shown, capturing free flying bugs just above the grass line.
But that's not what this entry is all about. Let's instead rewind a bit, shall we?
Objectives and Motivation
The mercury measurement bled down to 108° by 7 p.m. Meanwhile, I was hoping for a more precipitous drop, something below the century mark would have sufficed. Avoiding heat stroke was my prime motivator - my goal while going outside during fireworks time.
Witnessing live fireworks on the 4th of July became important to me somewhere around mid-morning. I'd been enjoying my private laptop time (within the alcove portion of the cafeteria) when a dedicated member of the activities group invaded my space, karaoke sound system cart in tow.
It was her gear. The electronic components that would make her vocalized warbling impressively louder, via amplification (and possibly obliteration). She would be the mid-morning performer. The sole singer. The person belting out song after song unimpeded, uninterrupted, and likely underappreciated.
She didn't specifically ask me to leave the area prior to her 10:30 a.m. performance, but that particular message was implied (body language, tone of voice, sinister scowl). However, the precise moment of our initial interaction occurred at 9:45. So I had leeway. Hurray for leeway! And ramp up time.
Besides my particular chosen spot, there's nowhere else to comfortably hang out within and throughout the interior building. Indeed, my current stationing allowed for an obstructed view of the outdoors, more specifically, the inner courtyard. Better than nothing. Much better.
Meanwhile, each of the other hang out options within the interior of the nursing home yield to vastly unimpressive views, a never ending series of wall-to-wall-to-ceiling-to-floor windowless nothingness, subtle traces of abandonment, and outdated decor.
With an insincere smile splashed across my face, I nodded my head in her general direction, politely acknowledging her warning. Yes, I knew she wanted me to vacate right there and right then, but I was feeling rebellious, apparently.
Ten minutes later she turned up and turned on the music. Background music. Songs about freedom. Songs about Jesus and the United States. Songs about an invisible entity ceaselessly blessing America from sea to shining sea. And then Country and Western songs about military people being blown up in Iraq. You know what I mean, right?
With my earbuds wedged ever deeper into my ear holes, I turned the volume up even louder still - in attempts to blot out the high and mighty jingoism being force fed. I mean, I'm all for America. Or at least, parts of me are. But …. eh, I better steer clear. No need to offend the massed patriots amongst us during our nation's birthday celebration.
At 10 minute intervals, the lady that was soon to sing, kept increasing the volume of the background music. Louder and louder it went. But I held out. I wanted to teach her a lesson. Yes, that's exactly what I was teaching her.
I suppose my predisposition towards resisting gets the best out of me on occasion. It's my default mode. Always. And forever more.
Decisions - D.R.I.
Eventually the volume level reached a saturation point. I could no longer think straight. See straight. Curl my toes properly. You know, the usual things you do when you're getting sound-blasted into oblivion.
So I did what any normal red blooded American would do, I left in a huff. I headed back to my room. My Man Cave (um, yeah…. whatever the hell that is). And so decided to make do with what I had —- ummmm… nope, that's not right. In crisis situations most disposable Americans would default to their mass consumerism tendencies by going online and making binge purchases as a means to make themselves feel better and better.
Anyways, I went back to my room to listen to the people down the hallway moan and groan and cry for help. I went back to my room so that I could smell the smells of urine and defecated remnants. Indeed, I went back to my room in order to twist and pout.
Note on "Twist and Pout" : It's a blasphemous combination of The Beatles meets The Cure. Old school music. New school language. An affront to societal bliss.
Anyway, that whole series of non-events riled me up to some extent, so much so that I decided to push the known boundaries. Yes, I'd be going outdoors (against medical advice) to seek out fireworks displays great and loud. So there you have it, a treasonous act against the nursing home elite.
But the temperature. The temperature would need to drop. I wasn't willing to sacrifice my life in order to see fireworks on display. Luckily, the temperature dropped down to an icy cool 103° by the time I worked my way outside. True, there was a hot desert breeze blowing up my shorts. Literally. Keeping me dry. As dry as can be. But sweat equity is meaningless here in these environs. It's all about hydration.
8:45
So of course, following my covert escaping (and once I hit the bike path) my feeding tube machinery went on the fritz. Somehow, every time I go out in the evening for my evening roll my dedicated feeding pump ceases to function. It locks up. Freezes in place. Or boils. Broils? Something bad happens each time. So each time the feeding flow gets blocked I have to head back indoors in relatively short order.
Note 2: the new feeding formula is exceedingly problematic
Anyways, while making my approach I spied shadowy figures up on the pedestrian overpass. And I guessed correctly - they were my people - my homeless friends (well, some of them). It was Kelly and a couple others. The "couple of others" weren't really friendlies. They were more simply head nodding acquaintances. A slight wave of the hand people. Maybe an eyebrow twitch. Those kind of acquaintances.
More important than all of that, my timing was close to perfect. And from that high point above the valley, I could see and witnessed nearly a dozen separate fireworks displays. Blossoming flowers of showering light in the distance, defying gravity and all common sense. Colors a plenty. And then within closer proximity, m80s and m100s blowing up with some regularity. Roman candles launched sky high to the left of me, Roman candles to the right!
Yeah, for twenty minutes solid I witnessed streaking flashes aplenty (drifting west to east) riding the arid breeziness. Non-Stop action. And my friend Kelly was more excited than most, while the non- friendlies were focused on other more pressing matters.
Then after twenty minutes of seasonal abyss, I gave up. Too much heat. Too dry. Too all encompassing.
Kelly seemed disappointed that I'd be departing, but he also understood my hydration concerns. So I rolled back to the village of the damned - feeling alright.
Hope all is well
Howard
Vantage Points -
No Fireworks Images Captured -
Also note, I was a fair amount higher up, perspective wise, once the fireworks launched
