Mystery solved
For one, about why I stopped using LJ. It takes forever to load, and if you type while it's loading it will lose what you typed in favor of your last entry. No fun.
So last night I get itchy feet, the desire to wander, but with my ankle merely rested and not healed there was no way I was going into town. Sure it was downhill getting there, but it's uphill getting back. Sure I could take a taxi getting back, but that means being where they'll see me, on a Saturday night. Nope, it was easier to walk into the suburbs, on the relative flat, and see what that park was I pass all the time. I had a pack of cigarettes which I doubted I could smoke in a park, but the fresh clean and windy air beckoned to me. Maybe there would be a place.
Two things you should know about smells. One is that cabs often have them, though usually good smells. It is a beach town and cab drivers are pretty good about defunkifying their cars. Once, though, I stepped into one and caught a whiff of the most wonderful combination. It smelled like fine cigar and cool mint. I inhaled deeply, it was such a lovely smell. Less lovely is the smell this apartment gets sometimes--sort of a cross between dog poo and raw methane. It's not quite Chino, it seems more urban than that.
So last night around sunset I hobble-walk down the alley behind my place, down to a pair of buildings whose signs I can't read. Cars going by speak of a gathering further down but nothing here. A paving-stone walkway beckoned so I went there, past one of the few trees still blooming and out into a peculiar clearing. It looked as though someone grew a lawn over the top of a building. It was relatively flat, though not so flat I didn't have to watch my step. There were three chimneys/vents pumping air out, and a horror-movie-coffin-shaped cement door on rusty rails I stepped gingerly out towards them and despite the clean air of the rest of the town last night I caught That Smell. Carefully I looked over the side. A steep but not entirely vertical drop to a tiny golf course below, covered in grass and surrounded by tall trees beautifully swaying in the evening breezes. It could have been peaceful but for the whirr of the fans and the smell.
I suspect I'd walked on top of a sewage treatment thing, and that this is the smell I catch on odd days at home. My own personal Chino. My neighbors either don't talk about it or lack the nose to notice it. But there it is.
I had my smoke at home. The laws here on that are toughening up so I can't just light up anywhere, nevermind the thought of a student stumbling upon that. Not a big deal, but not something they should see either.
So last night I get itchy feet, the desire to wander, but with my ankle merely rested and not healed there was no way I was going into town. Sure it was downhill getting there, but it's uphill getting back. Sure I could take a taxi getting back, but that means being where they'll see me, on a Saturday night. Nope, it was easier to walk into the suburbs, on the relative flat, and see what that park was I pass all the time. I had a pack of cigarettes which I doubted I could smoke in a park, but the fresh clean and windy air beckoned to me. Maybe there would be a place.
Two things you should know about smells. One is that cabs often have them, though usually good smells. It is a beach town and cab drivers are pretty good about defunkifying their cars. Once, though, I stepped into one and caught a whiff of the most wonderful combination. It smelled like fine cigar and cool mint. I inhaled deeply, it was such a lovely smell. Less lovely is the smell this apartment gets sometimes--sort of a cross between dog poo and raw methane. It's not quite Chino, it seems more urban than that.
So last night around sunset I hobble-walk down the alley behind my place, down to a pair of buildings whose signs I can't read. Cars going by speak of a gathering further down but nothing here. A paving-stone walkway beckoned so I went there, past one of the few trees still blooming and out into a peculiar clearing. It looked as though someone grew a lawn over the top of a building. It was relatively flat, though not so flat I didn't have to watch my step. There were three chimneys/vents pumping air out, and a horror-movie-coffin-shaped cement door on rusty rails I stepped gingerly out towards them and despite the clean air of the rest of the town last night I caught That Smell. Carefully I looked over the side. A steep but not entirely vertical drop to a tiny golf course below, covered in grass and surrounded by tall trees beautifully swaying in the evening breezes. It could have been peaceful but for the whirr of the fans and the smell.
I suspect I'd walked on top of a sewage treatment thing, and that this is the smell I catch on odd days at home. My own personal Chino. My neighbors either don't talk about it or lack the nose to notice it. But there it is.
I had my smoke at home. The laws here on that are toughening up so I can't just light up anywhere, nevermind the thought of a student stumbling upon that. Not a big deal, but not something they should see either.