2003-05-06 - 2:41 p.m. Birth 8 Sticky Landscapes June 14th 2002 Sam, Sara (sam's girl), and I are wandering back from the car. Sara was nice enough to drive us back from Trout�s going away party. Trout is going to Jackson Hole to be a ski bum. As we get to the gate of the apartment I stare at the Virgin Mary in the cage on our �lawn.� Trout is leaving behind his friends, job, and girlfriend. I respect him for the pursuit of ski bummery. We went to this dive bar near Trout�s pad in Allston tonight. It was an event. I had a lot to drink and played some pool. Vikram came with Katherine his sparkling Italian girlfriend. John came with his latest girl Angela, from Needles wedding. Sam brought Sara. I did not come with Carla, however, which was too bad, and yet, probably for the best. Carla would not have liked that I somehow I ended up playing pool with these townies. Man. They kicked my drunken ass all over Allston. I lost count of the beers I had, but this was one of those rare times I was not driving so I over-indulged on the beer. I am still unemployed, however I had applied to plenty of jobs. I am taking a nice easy unemployed summer. The last I will ever have freely. The lease on the Medford apartment is running out in August, and with Sam leaving, I couldn�t keep it. ***Back at the gate, in front of the apartment. My eyes gaze up at the putrid apartment. It is the second worse building on the street, after this horrendous college dive a block down. The outside of this place is terrible --A paint chipping light lime green --Tin like siding. It wasn�t wood. It wasn�t vinyl. But it WAS bad. --A lawn about the size of a geo metro --The lawn was access through the Gremlin (landlord) stoop, this cement sitting area she lurks on all day. She is 4'8" tall. She makes magpie bread. A putrid bread that needs the larva of flies to ferment properly. --The �yard� was enclosed by a brick wall, with an opening at a non locking knee high metal gate, guarded by two cracked eggshell shell white Italian lions. --The yard itself housed weeds and a shire to the Virgin Mary in a half shell. She was undamaged for the Virgin and the Half Shell were caged in a brick box, only able to be viewed through a rusted locked gate that made her look as if she was in lockdown. --To finish the look, the �landlords� had decided to install year round Christmas lights over the entire front of the house. They were strewn from place to place in a completely chaotic manner, culminating at the top of the Virgins cage in a wind blown spiderweb like design. This place is ugly. But when you are a clerk and a student; the price is right. I stare at the Virgin, and being that we had less than a month left, and last months rent paid; I announced that she is �going down.� I understand for the first time why the landlords had enclosed the virgin in a cage as I futilely attempt to gain access. Then, Sam joins, as his poor girlfriend watches a drunken train wreck. After we realize that getting into the cage is pointless, we surmount the brick enclosure itself and climb on top sharing the space with each other and the year round Christmas lights that stretch randomly to each part of the abode. Our balancing act did not last for long as we both fall into the brick garden dislodging some lights and weeds in our wake of destruction. Then either Sam or I decide it is time. It is time to double mount the guard lions, and pretend that we were screwing them. The need to know who the "boss" is. So Sam�s poor, poor girlfriend watches as Sam and I climb up onto the ledges and take our positions behind our lions. Then we go to town. I am glad Shelly isn't here; To see two men humping marbel lions. After that we stagger upstairs and try to get ready for bed. As I curl up in my bed, I know that I am tired of the city. I begin to dream of Trout and his Montana ski hills. Open fields of endless snow. I dream of my plastic green Lego fields I used to fill with soldiers going off to battle, or people having picnics. I wish life were more like those sticky fields where you could just move things around, posing them in perfect positions. Lawns of imagination. | |||||||||||
