Surrounded by all this pavement.

I watched them as I quietly locked up my bike. They were in the alley. Or, rather, she was in the alley and so was he. He was getting more aggressive, and she was trying to leave. They hadn't noticed me and I wanted to keep it that way. He didn't look like somebody I wanted to tangle with. But the fact was, they were where I wanted to be. "Leave me alone," she seemed to say, trying not to make a large scene. "I said get over here, bitch." He seemed to reply. He continued to get up close to her even as she tried desperately to get away. I kept my head down and hugged the wall as I tried to pass by, unnoticed. He puffed out his chest and knocked her to the ground. I stopped. He continued to get up in her business and, finally, jumped on top of her. "What now?" I imagined him growling at her as he dug into her back and stepped on her head.

I stepped out into the alley.

"Hey," I challenged. "Leave her alone." He turned to look at me, and climbed off of her to his feet. She pulled herself up. "Get out of here." I said, and with that she made her hasty escape. He and I sidestepped each other, locking eyes. His eyes betrayed a fiery rage and I responded with an icy glare. We continued to walk our circle in the alley, a tense dance that seemed to be a prelude to violent transgressions. "I'm going to give you one chance to walk away." I said. He paused for a moment, perhaps considering the gravity of my threat before taking a step into the arena we had carved into the stone. He continued to stare me down, unfazed by my posturing--emboldened, even. I stopped as he took another step toward me. And another. I took an aggressive step toward him and he flew away.

I fucking hate pigeons.

I was sitting at a stop light the other day when a bird landed in the intersection. A young pigeon, I guess. It kept dodging the cars that were turning left but absolutely refused to fly away. Finally, an 18-wheeler drove through the intersection. It was at this point that the young pigeon decided it was most opportune to fly away. He jumped up and spread his wings just as the truck drove through the intersection, smashing the pigeon into the grill and continuing on. I never saw the pigeon again, partly because my light turned green.

But mainly because birds are not very smart.

Comments

Carolynn said…

I don't have anything in particular to say except that I liked this one a lot.

July 15, 2010 at 12:16 AM

Pseudo-science (like psych).

I consider myself a man of science. I try to approach problems and deal with them logically, using observations previously recorded to handle new problems. So of course my interest was piqued when someone I knew posited that men are needier and more complicated than women. An interesting theory. But to properly examine it, one must understand the concept of sexual selection and its two aspects: male competition and female choice. Which brings us to point one: men are needier [in relationships] than women. This is true. In a natural/primal setting, the males are generally love-'em-leave-'em kinds of guys. Their main objective is to reproduce as much as they can. Humans, in their infinite wisdom, have decreased the emphasis on this to the point where it has become a footnote in male purpose. Civilization dictates that, instead of finding a partner for the sole purpose of reproduction, males find females for life companionship. With the effective removal of their natur

Just the stirring in my soul.

I, really, kind of don't want to be here anymore. Not in the sense that I am dissatisfied with my life or my present situation--which isn't to say that I'm not , because I am in a way--but in the sense that I am dissatisfied with the lack of things happening. I keep looking around. Out the window of my room. Out the window of my car. Out the window of the living room. I want to be on the other side of that glass. That's where the action is. I need, desperately, an adventure. I need to go somewhere. See something. Anywhere, anything. I don't care where or what as long as it's happening. I want to travel so badly. Grab my backpack and my camera and walk away. I'd settle for going to the same state park I've been to a hundred times over. It's this routine I'm stuck in. Seeing the same shit every day, going through the same motions. I need to change it up, break things. I need some vitality--being cooped up is killing me. What I re

No, Holmes, no!

All I ever think about these days is how much I have to/want to study. I hope that's not how I have a good time, now. Would I rather go hang out with peeps or would I rather sit in and study? It is a difficult question to answer. Just a couple more days and then I can focus all my energy on the next greatest idea I've ever had: iconic detectives and sharks.

everything is fine

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