Evening experiences on an empty stomach
May. 14th, 2004 11:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
zdashamberThe floor of our bathroom is molded linoleum, an Italian-tile-looking pattern of light and dark. There's usually an ant there, wandering aimlessly, probably after mocking some saviour of antkind. I generally watch it while sitting there, telepathically urging it to greater caution, ~Can't you tell that you're 10 times less visible on the dark bits?!~
Lately, there have been more; perhaps a handful of ants in various wanderings in the bathroom. Is a puzzlement, as it's not like there's anything for them to eat there. An hour or so ago, I walk in, glance over to the ant's stomping ground, and my mind sings, the FLOOR is alive... Again, a handful of ants only, but the way they blend with the dark lines and then move out to the light areas adds to a musical quick impression.
* * *
I walked to McDonald's to see if it wasn't too late. Now, you understand, all my life it's pleased me to consider how I would deal with various occurrences, like nuclear war, or getting transported to a world of fantasy and magic, or being jumped. Naturally I became a gamer. I'll just use "thinks like a gamer" as shorthand for this.
So, I was walking to McDonalds, down into the hollow of a passage below the highway, and someone had dumped a pile of lumber on the sidewalk, perhaps from tearing down part of an old house. Good lumber: a door lintel, something I'd swear was a 3x8, 4x4s, 1x12s, stuff that would make damn fine clubs, stuff that could easily be shattered into stakes galore, boards with nails in them...
And I was recording in my mind. Aha! Is my character on the run, weaponless? Can I make it a sketchy part of town? Then, I know now, it's entirely likely that there will be lumber, just lying ready for the taking!
I knew I was bound to inform all of you.
* * *
That part of the walk has always struck me as quite atmospheric. The street dips to go under the highway, which at that point is merging with another highway and then splitting off. At the deepest point, the highway runs perhaps 35 feet above your head, with steep grooved concrete retaining walls on either side--and best yet, the subway lines run between and below the highways, under the ground, but still above this space. Four highways, seven subway lines, sharp stairs going up to the tunnels, chain link fences, locked steel doors, razor wire, electrified third rails, banshee-wailing trains heading through every 5-10 minutes, warning signs, broken glass...
It's beautiful. I'd love to see a Feng Shui fight there.
A block away is a vet's, for emergency medicine. A block north of that, a tall, noir, u-store-it place. A block in the other direction, a mini-junkyard with three junkyard dogs. A block south, a strip club. A block west, my house.
* * *
The McDonalds closed at 10. I walk back past the pile of lumber. If I could transport it 1500 miles east and 12 years back in time, god, what a fort I would build!
Lately, there have been more; perhaps a handful of ants in various wanderings in the bathroom. Is a puzzlement, as it's not like there's anything for them to eat there. An hour or so ago, I walk in, glance over to the ant's stomping ground, and my mind sings, the FLOOR is alive... Again, a handful of ants only, but the way they blend with the dark lines and then move out to the light areas adds to a musical quick impression.
* * *
I walked to McDonald's to see if it wasn't too late. Now, you understand, all my life it's pleased me to consider how I would deal with various occurrences, like nuclear war, or getting transported to a world of fantasy and magic, or being jumped. Naturally I became a gamer. I'll just use "thinks like a gamer" as shorthand for this.
So, I was walking to McDonalds, down into the hollow of a passage below the highway, and someone had dumped a pile of lumber on the sidewalk, perhaps from tearing down part of an old house. Good lumber: a door lintel, something I'd swear was a 3x8, 4x4s, 1x12s, stuff that would make damn fine clubs, stuff that could easily be shattered into stakes galore, boards with nails in them...
And I was recording in my mind. Aha! Is my character on the run, weaponless? Can I make it a sketchy part of town? Then, I know now, it's entirely likely that there will be lumber, just lying ready for the taking!
I knew I was bound to inform all of you.
* * *
That part of the walk has always struck me as quite atmospheric. The street dips to go under the highway, which at that point is merging with another highway and then splitting off. At the deepest point, the highway runs perhaps 35 feet above your head, with steep grooved concrete retaining walls on either side--and best yet, the subway lines run between and below the highways, under the ground, but still above this space. Four highways, seven subway lines, sharp stairs going up to the tunnels, chain link fences, locked steel doors, razor wire, electrified third rails, banshee-wailing trains heading through every 5-10 minutes, warning signs, broken glass...
It's beautiful. I'd love to see a Feng Shui fight there.
A block away is a vet's, for emergency medicine. A block north of that, a tall, noir, u-store-it place. A block in the other direction, a mini-junkyard with three junkyard dogs. A block south, a strip club. A block west, my house.
* * *
The McDonalds closed at 10. I walk back past the pile of lumber. If I could transport it 1500 miles east and 12 years back in time, god, what a fort I would build!
no subject
Date: 2004-05-15 04:50 am (UTC)I have the same thoughts about all the overpasses in Seattle. Through downtown Seattle the area around I-5 is just this tangle of overpasses. When I'm going down the 5 in that area, I just fantasize about some post-apocalyptic Seattle, where there's no cars whizzing by and I'm free to explore the nooks and crannies created.
no subject
Date: 2004-05-15 02:06 pm (UTC)I don't quite remember, but maybe there was a tree in the area that we could build a treefort in. One of the great sorrows of my childhood was a lack of lumber... Dad said that they used to just have skids lying out for the taking, so kids could make all the treehouses they wanted. Actually, two weeks ago, I saw out back of a hardware store a little pile that had the sign "free skids". Free skids! Oh, how could joy be increased!