nothing gold can stay
We work in the top of a five-floor brick building downtown at the corner of Second and Swift. You can get up to the fifth floor in the scary elevator but I usually take the stairs, especially if Hugely Pregnant Lady gets on. From the top floor, we have a perfect view of the seedy little intersection. I made Anna bring in her binoculars so I could spy on the people in the street below.
The buildings around us are boring; there is only one window that showed the activity of life and it was an old lady. She sits at a desk with a lamp behind it and sometimes a bald man comes in and then they talk and sign papers. The man goes away again. I haven't seen the lady for several weeks and I worry she might have died.
The parking garage down the street goes "BRAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPP!" Every time that happens, I say "BRAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPP!"
I narrate the street life down at the intersection. It's on a point system: two points if someone goes into Big Town Hero, three if they enter the Check Cashing Place or DocuMart, and five if they go into the little record store that sells crappy t-shirts.
The Street Narrative usually goes something like this: "He's crossing the street... talking on his cellphone, pauses at Big Town Hero, stops, GOES INSIDE!!" Two points. "They're... crossing the street, it looks like... yeah, they went to Big Town Hero for lunch!"
"He's smoking a cigarette... puts it out, and he - he GOES INTO THE RECORD STORE. No wait! He comes out of the record store, he's picking up the cigarette butt, puts it in the trash... goes back in the record store. He comes out of the record store, he's looking around on the ground by the garbage can, he - oh no way - he PICKS UP MORE CIGARETTE BUTTS! He puts them in the garbage! He's doing a little jig and poking his hand in and out of the garbage hole really fast! It's OCD dude, he's atoning for his Original Sin of not throwing away that first butt. He goes back in the record store, stays in..." Five points.
"BRAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPP!"
The other day they had the inmates out cleaning the street in their cute little orange glo vests. "They're cleaning the street, they... it looks like, no... they're taking a break. He looks... very attractive! Hey, you think he needs a pen pal?" The idea was so exciting to me that I spent the rest of the afternoon on date-an-inmate.com searching for a date for my mom.
Usually if I'm trying to relax I go to fart soundboard and play a few toots and that always cheers me up. If you press the buttons right, it will keep farting for like five minutes by itself and then you can laugh until your eyes water. That's a good one. Also good: googling 'Tyra Banks hobo suit'.
Anna has been working on this medical thing for week and she has to do an animation of an arm going into an blood pressure cuff. The arm is not attached to anyone; it just slides in and out - a disembodied arm. We call it the Arm Bulb. But the client didn't like Arm Bulb so they replaced it with an arrow instead. Now I have to remember there is no more Arm Bulb, it's a thing of the past and I have to move on. The Arm Bulb is dead to me.
Tomorrow I will check to see if the old lady is alive again and I will say "BRAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPP!" every time I hear the garage buzzer. I'll go on Fart Soundboard and send IMs to the stoner in santa cruz and maybe I will get a little bit of work done too.
The buildings around us are boring; there is only one window that showed the activity of life and it was an old lady. She sits at a desk with a lamp behind it and sometimes a bald man comes in and then they talk and sign papers. The man goes away again. I haven't seen the lady for several weeks and I worry she might have died.
The parking garage down the street goes "BRAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPP!" Every time that happens, I say "BRAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPP!"
I narrate the street life down at the intersection. It's on a point system: two points if someone goes into Big Town Hero, three if they enter the Check Cashing Place or DocuMart, and five if they go into the little record store that sells crappy t-shirts.
The Street Narrative usually goes something like this: "He's crossing the street... talking on his cellphone, pauses at Big Town Hero, stops, GOES INSIDE!!" Two points. "They're... crossing the street, it looks like... yeah, they went to Big Town Hero for lunch!"
"He's smoking a cigarette... puts it out, and he - he GOES INTO THE RECORD STORE. No wait! He comes out of the record store, he's picking up the cigarette butt, puts it in the trash... goes back in the record store. He comes out of the record store, he's looking around on the ground by the garbage can, he - oh no way - he PICKS UP MORE CIGARETTE BUTTS! He puts them in the garbage! He's doing a little jig and poking his hand in and out of the garbage hole really fast! It's OCD dude, he's atoning for his Original Sin of not throwing away that first butt. He goes back in the record store, stays in..." Five points.
"BRAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPP!"
The other day they had the inmates out cleaning the street in their cute little orange glo vests. "They're cleaning the street, they... it looks like, no... they're taking a break. He looks... very attractive! Hey, you think he needs a pen pal?" The idea was so exciting to me that I spent the rest of the afternoon on date-an-inmate.com searching for a date for my mom.
Usually if I'm trying to relax I go to fart soundboard and play a few toots and that always cheers me up. If you press the buttons right, it will keep farting for like five minutes by itself and then you can laugh until your eyes water. That's a good one. Also good: googling 'Tyra Banks hobo suit'.
Anna has been working on this medical thing for week and she has to do an animation of an arm going into an blood pressure cuff. The arm is not attached to anyone; it just slides in and out - a disembodied arm. We call it the Arm Bulb. But the client didn't like Arm Bulb so they replaced it with an arrow instead. Now I have to remember there is no more Arm Bulb, it's a thing of the past and I have to move on. The Arm Bulb is dead to me.
Tomorrow I will check to see if the old lady is alive again and I will say "BRAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPP!" every time I hear the garage buzzer. I'll go on Fart Soundboard and send IMs to the stoner in santa cruz and maybe I will get a little bit of work done too.