Fire Flowers In The Gainesville Skyline
About three miles into my nightly jog yesterday when I was overwhelmed by all these fireworks being set off near Shands Hospital, which got me thinking. Do we set celebrate the Forth of July the night before or do we celebrate the night of? And isn’t just awful for those certain few people in the hospital, who’s room windows are not facing the festivities? After awhile, it was somewhat hard looking away, which was annoying considering all of the traffic. I was drawn to it all like a beetle to a porch light. There is something about men and blowing shit up. It’s in our blood. Even our founding fathers. Think about it for a minute. These guys were wig-wearing socialites, I’m looking at you Ben Franklin, who were drafting mandates and putting their lives on the line for national independence. And what happened when they finally got it? Fucking fireworks.
The display briefly transported me back to my childhood. As a whole, the Heck family has never been too big on fireworks, not the literal kind anyway. We would simply pack up the lawn chairs and head to the beach if we were in the mood. Except for one year, and this was way back when I was roughly four or five years old. My dad figured he was required to show the clan how the Fourth of July should be done. He laid out this cardboard mat, the kind good for break dancing, and set everything up. In the beginning, things were going smoothly, nothing amazing. But you know men get with fireworks after a while. Setting them off one-by-one just ain’t cutting the mustard, despite all of the warnings on the boxes. So, using his best judgment, the man I’m proud to call my father started to ignite anything he could get his hands on all at once. Needless to say, he almost burned down the back end of the house. The memory was so instant, so vivid, and brought such a smile to my face. Of course, the same machismo, the same curiosity of lighting shit up, is in my genes. For I remember being guilty of similar shenanigans of my own. My sister and I had sparklers and I was the one with the great idea of seeing what would happen if we set a few dozen on fire. I nearly burned the hell out of my hand on that one....
My off-paced breathing brought me back to reality. Random silly things pop into my head whenever I run. Impoverished people aren’t supposed to be fat. All the fat cats play in the upper percentile. Then again, it really doesn’t matter. With each footstep, I am heading towards a future increasingly grim.
Keep running, Chris. Please, just keep running.
Everything is an obstacle. Everything’s a distraction. I wanted to stop and experience it all, but I knew if I did that, I probably wouldn’t be able to start up again. And I can’t get out of the routine. Not like when I was exercising before. Once one card falls, they all topple over. So I ran through it. I dodged through droves of on-lookers. College kids were everywhere. One buffoon challenged me to a race, which I nearly didn’t win if he hadn’t lost his footing and fell over. The statement “I’ve been doing this for a fucking half hour” was caught in my throat. I just hope the girl he was with was impressed. I also ran through my biggest fear: being on display in front of a large group of people. They were all sprawled out on the grass with coolers and beach towels. And there I was, the only guy not bothering myself with it all. I could feel their eyes on me and caught the sound of snickering in my ears. There are a bunch of bloody savages in this town....
Keep writing, Chris. Please, for fuck’s sake, just keep writing.
I pasted a squad of policemen, about three of four, standing outside their cars, chatting away. No crime this night, folks. Not for Gainesville’s finest. There’s no harm in giving people a break for a little while.
Well, I got through it all, the usual six miles, only to arrive to an empty apartment. Goddamn roommates. Being around on weekends just isn’t enough. Especially when they’re being preoccupied with their cousins and females. Yeesh.
The display briefly transported me back to my childhood. As a whole, the Heck family has never been too big on fireworks, not the literal kind anyway. We would simply pack up the lawn chairs and head to the beach if we were in the mood. Except for one year, and this was way back when I was roughly four or five years old. My dad figured he was required to show the clan how the Fourth of July should be done. He laid out this cardboard mat, the kind good for break dancing, and set everything up. In the beginning, things were going smoothly, nothing amazing. But you know men get with fireworks after a while. Setting them off one-by-one just ain’t cutting the mustard, despite all of the warnings on the boxes. So, using his best judgment, the man I’m proud to call my father started to ignite anything he could get his hands on all at once. Needless to say, he almost burned down the back end of the house. The memory was so instant, so vivid, and brought such a smile to my face. Of course, the same machismo, the same curiosity of lighting shit up, is in my genes. For I remember being guilty of similar shenanigans of my own. My sister and I had sparklers and I was the one with the great idea of seeing what would happen if we set a few dozen on fire. I nearly burned the hell out of my hand on that one....
My off-paced breathing brought me back to reality. Random silly things pop into my head whenever I run. Impoverished people aren’t supposed to be fat. All the fat cats play in the upper percentile. Then again, it really doesn’t matter. With each footstep, I am heading towards a future increasingly grim.
Keep running, Chris. Please, just keep running.
Everything is an obstacle. Everything’s a distraction. I wanted to stop and experience it all, but I knew if I did that, I probably wouldn’t be able to start up again. And I can’t get out of the routine. Not like when I was exercising before. Once one card falls, they all topple over. So I ran through it. I dodged through droves of on-lookers. College kids were everywhere. One buffoon challenged me to a race, which I nearly didn’t win if he hadn’t lost his footing and fell over. The statement “I’ve been doing this for a fucking half hour” was caught in my throat. I just hope the girl he was with was impressed. I also ran through my biggest fear: being on display in front of a large group of people. They were all sprawled out on the grass with coolers and beach towels. And there I was, the only guy not bothering myself with it all. I could feel their eyes on me and caught the sound of snickering in my ears. There are a bunch of bloody savages in this town....
Keep writing, Chris. Please, for fuck’s sake, just keep writing.
I pasted a squad of policemen, about three of four, standing outside their cars, chatting away. No crime this night, folks. Not for Gainesville’s finest. There’s no harm in giving people a break for a little while.
Well, I got through it all, the usual six miles, only to arrive to an empty apartment. Goddamn roommates. Being around on weekends just isn’t enough. Especially when they’re being preoccupied with their cousins and females. Yeesh.