(no subject)
Wow. No sooner than I start writing in journal again do weird and MAGICAL things start happening to me again. Gather 'round, dear children and let me tell you of the frightening, beautiful things that lurk in the alleys...
I ran out of work today to grab some much needed coffee and decided to walk the extra distance to the 7-11 on Milwaukee just to take in the day (holla chicago! no coat weather at last!). i think the last staw was deftly tossed upon this camel's back this week at work. i can hear my back creaking. it's common knowledge that i've developed a knack for pulling beautiful things out of dumpsters; original wesley willis artwork, a 4x5 camera formerly owned by a tribune photographer who died at 85 years of age in 1992, 80% of my bedroom furniture and various and sundries that just needed a little nudge to become something useful and interesting. a lot of this stuff hasd come from daily meanderings around the alleys in bucktown. well, today i was walking back to work in the alleys when i saw him. a tattered homeless man tearing a huge pile of nice looking, and more importantly, antique furniture. i kept my distance because of the rabid enthusiasm with which he was tearing at this pile of detrius. as i passed him he started laughing which i took as a symtom of whatever disjointedness his consciousness had encountered with the consensus reality you and i can always run home to. then, i saw them in his hands...and i coveted them. he pulled them up over his head and set them down on the adjacent trash can. i have never desired any objects so much as i desired these. what stared back at me from their wooden plaques with synthetic eyes, their bodies frozen in a perpetual gesture of grace and dignity were a pair of taxidermied quail. my heart raced , but i dared not approach. i went around the corner and waited for him to leave, hoping he'd leave the quail. i thought of all the cool things that quails COULD BECOME; teddy bear with a quail head ( a beast of mythological porportions if ever i heard one), a quail guitar, a quail lamp...the possibilities were endless. i waited...and waited...and waited...the aformentioned consensus reality began to reclaim it's hold and i remembered that i had to get back to work so i threw caution to the wind and approached the guy...
me: "hey! how's it going?"
him: "pretty good! you?"
m: "aw, i'm doin' o.k...what ya' got there?"
h: "these? birds, man! they're throwin' out BIRDS!"
m: "woah...those are awesome, man!"
h: "i know! it's crazy what people throw out!"
m: "oh, man...nobody knows that better than me."
h: "yeah...it's like better homes and GARBAGE!"
m: "HA! i KNOW!"
h: "yeah. i go dumpster diving all the time. i make pretty good money off of the stuff i find. these yuppies throw out perfect stuff."
m: "i go dumpster diving a lot, too. i make stuff out of what i find."
h: "that's great. you should take this table."
m: "...but i haven't quite figured out how to make money off of it yet."
h: "man...these BIRDS!"
m: "yeah...those are incredible. what are you going to do with them?"
h: "aw, i'm gonna take these home and decorate my house with them."
...at this point i realized that i was, indeed, having a conversation in the real world with a certain section of my psyche. it was like tripping on acid without the x 10 amplification of significance. it was casual...not boring, but absoloutly commonplace.
p.s.--does anybody remember the band hovercraft? eddie vedder's wife was in that band. i dusted off an old cd and i've been listening to it. they were pretty incredible.
I ran out of work today to grab some much needed coffee and decided to walk the extra distance to the 7-11 on Milwaukee just to take in the day (holla chicago! no coat weather at last!). i think the last staw was deftly tossed upon this camel's back this week at work. i can hear my back creaking. it's common knowledge that i've developed a knack for pulling beautiful things out of dumpsters; original wesley willis artwork, a 4x5 camera formerly owned by a tribune photographer who died at 85 years of age in 1992, 80% of my bedroom furniture and various and sundries that just needed a little nudge to become something useful and interesting. a lot of this stuff hasd come from daily meanderings around the alleys in bucktown. well, today i was walking back to work in the alleys when i saw him. a tattered homeless man tearing a huge pile of nice looking, and more importantly, antique furniture. i kept my distance because of the rabid enthusiasm with which he was tearing at this pile of detrius. as i passed him he started laughing which i took as a symtom of whatever disjointedness his consciousness had encountered with the consensus reality you and i can always run home to. then, i saw them in his hands...and i coveted them. he pulled them up over his head and set them down on the adjacent trash can. i have never desired any objects so much as i desired these. what stared back at me from their wooden plaques with synthetic eyes, their bodies frozen in a perpetual gesture of grace and dignity were a pair of taxidermied quail. my heart raced , but i dared not approach. i went around the corner and waited for him to leave, hoping he'd leave the quail. i thought of all the cool things that quails COULD BECOME; teddy bear with a quail head ( a beast of mythological porportions if ever i heard one), a quail guitar, a quail lamp...the possibilities were endless. i waited...and waited...and waited...the aformentioned consensus reality began to reclaim it's hold and i remembered that i had to get back to work so i threw caution to the wind and approached the guy...
me: "hey! how's it going?"
him: "pretty good! you?"
m: "aw, i'm doin' o.k...what ya' got there?"
h: "these? birds, man! they're throwin' out BIRDS!"
m: "woah...those are awesome, man!"
h: "i know! it's crazy what people throw out!"
m: "oh, man...nobody knows that better than me."
h: "yeah...it's like better homes and GARBAGE!"
m: "HA! i KNOW!"
h: "yeah. i go dumpster diving all the time. i make pretty good money off of the stuff i find. these yuppies throw out perfect stuff."
m: "i go dumpster diving a lot, too. i make stuff out of what i find."
h: "that's great. you should take this table."
m: "...but i haven't quite figured out how to make money off of it yet."
h: "man...these BIRDS!"
m: "yeah...those are incredible. what are you going to do with them?"
h: "aw, i'm gonna take these home and decorate my house with them."
...at this point i realized that i was, indeed, having a conversation in the real world with a certain section of my psyche. it was like tripping on acid without the x 10 amplification of significance. it was casual...not boring, but absoloutly commonplace.
p.s.--does anybody remember the band hovercraft? eddie vedder's wife was in that band. i dusted off an old cd and i've been listening to it. they were pretty incredible.