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In the Twilight

13 Nov

from November 18, 2009

           As I walked through the grounds I stopped once or twice to kick at the dirt. It had only been a few weeks but the change of seasons had hit hard. Green grass was gone, replaced by brown hard earth and brittle dead leaves. The trees were near-dead skeletons and the stones loomed cold and gray.

           Black, I thought. This isn’t supposed to show the dirt. But the length of the black trench coat was spotted along the bottom hem with dots and splatters of brown sod and grayish-black mud.

            I eventually made it back to the car, right where I left it by the main road. It was also splattered with dirt. “Hmm.”

            There was no one around this time of day. The sun was setting. It was cold and getting dark and this wasn’t the friendliest place at night. Not that it was any better during the day, but at least you wouldn’t accidentally trip over a dead branch or a broken stone.

            Won’t be back for awhile. Damn.

            I took off the trench coat and tossed it in the back. Coats that long just get in the way when you drive. So I started the car, didn’t turn on the radio, and drove out. The road was also dirt, and unmarked and unlit. Figures.

            Eventually I made it out (after a wrong turn or two) and drove onto the county road toward town. Now I turned on the radio. The news was on, just missed sports and traffic was next so I changed the station to some music I couldn’t identify and finally just turned the radio off again. “Shit.”

            The road lights were few and far between but the road was straight and empty. A truck loaded with logs rumbled past going the other way and I had to pull over to allow a van full of old folks to speed ahead of me. Why are they in such a hurry?

            The glow ahead grew bright and the town loomed out of the darkness. The mountains rise behind the town and cast a shadow so approached from this direction, even at twilight, the town usually seemed to be in darkness, so the lights were bright and usually on at even at midday.

            Well, I wasn’t in a hurry and entered town from the west, passed by one of the town’s only two stoplights, and parked in the diner’s tiny lot. The senior citizen van was already parked three spots over, close to the door. I got out. It was chilly but I left the trench coat in the car. I didn’t want to carry that dirt into the restaurant. I had some on my shoes but I did my best to brush it off.

            Millie was behind the counter. She waved. I waved back and sat in another section, across the diner and away from the old folks. The other waitress brought me coffee, as usual, and I didn’t drink it, as usual. I ordered some eggs.

            While I waited I walked over to the counter and took the top paper off the pile. It was the morning edition but it was the local paper and nothing ever changes there and so I read it anyway. Sixteen pages. The antics of the mayor. High school sports. Local gossip. (Millie was in the column, sixth paragraph.) Pages and pages of ads for the two grocery stores, the bookstore, Jenny’s Laundromat, and even a half-page of personal ads.

            I read it cover to cover over my eggs.

            I’m not sure how long I was in the diner. I only wore my watch when I went out of town, not often, and I had nowhere to go. Eventually the old folks left, my eggs were eaten, and Millie was wiping the counters and trying to start a conversation with me, hoping to explain how the gossip column was wrong.

            “It’s OK Millie. I didn’t bother to read it,” I lied. I left a tip and went out to my car.

            The lot was now empty and most of the few stores on main street were closed or closing. Only Jenny’s Laundromat was open (All-Nite! said the sign.) and I headed over to drop off the trench coat. Jenny really did run the Laundromat and she always wore her “Hi! My name is Jenny!” name tag, even though everyone knew her and the only other employee was a black man named Lorenzo.

            Jenny wanted to talk to everyone and I waited until she had a phone call so I could drop off the coat, get my ticket, and leave while her voice was being used elsewhere. Jenny.

            I really didn’t want to go home. Other than to sleep there was no reason to. But there was nothing to do in town (besides talking with Jenny) so I went home.

            The TV was off and I kept it that way.

            I tracked in some of the dirt. Shouldn’t I have walked it off by now?

            For some reason it was hot inside even though I never use the heat and I opened some windows and a nice cool breeze came in. I didn’t mind the cold, I slept under a heavy quilt. I put away some things I had left around and eventually fell asleep. I know I had some dreams but I don’t want to remember them.

            The next day was Saturday. I put on my jeans and sneakers, found an old NYPD sweatshirt and just got in my car and drove.

            I took my watch.

TO BE CONTINUED

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From My Notebook

13 Nov

from November 10, 2007

Ya know I’ve got this notepad. I carry it around in my pocket and I write stuff in it. Like I wrote some notes about the yearbook website and I also drew the first sketch of the cover in it. I’ve also got a phone number written down but I didn’t put a name so I have no idea who or what it is. I’ve got a couple of lists of songs to download on iTunes and some other stuff.

But the thing the notepad gets used most for is stuff that really strikes me as funny for the blog (yeah, like there’s been anything funny in my blogs) and a lot of it is out of context. So for every detailed page of notes on Mr. Orcini the gym teacher, there are a dozen scrawled lines like ” I was the straightest guy in that bathroom” that have no context whatsoever and I have no clue what they were about. (Man, what bathroom was that anyway?)

So here are some Out Of Context Classics. Sit back and enjoy!

(Or log off and check out something on Youtube. Your call.)

– “The worst poker game since Tommy shot Spider!”

This is a Goodfellas reference. Tommy, played by Master Thespian Joe Pesci, shot Spider for the crime of being a little slow, and again for the further crime of actually being a little put out by the first shooting.  Jimmy (played by a little known actor making his debut named Robert DeNiro. Whatever happened to him?) complained that “I got no lime, you gotta dig the hole.” Classy, those gangsters. Sounds pretty funny too. A poker game would have to be pretty bad to equal that. But where will I ever use it?

– “Great Shades of Satan!”

I wish I could take credit for that one. I love that line. But truth be told, I swiped it. (And half of good writing is simply knowing what to swipe. But swipe any of my stuff and I’ll sue.) It was exclaimed by Gomez Addams on the Addams Family episode where Lurch, the moaning, monosyllabic Frankenstein-like butler, against all odds, not to mention logic, became a rock star. I’ve got to tell you, John Astin has never gotten his due. Whether playing Gomez or Buddy, Harry’s father on Night Court, John Astin is always funny. For example, who will ever forget the episode where Gomez and Pugsley went to the basement to play with their model trains and derailed them by blowing up the bridge! Classic! (What? You liked The Munsters better? Get out of here, Heathen!)

-“Putzmeister.”

Saw that one on the side of a truck. It is actually the name of a construction company. It just sounds so hysterical. As long as you know that “putz” means “penis.”

– “Damn bully pre-calculus professors.”

This just popped into my head for no reason at all. Did I mention it to you? Were we talking about pre-calc professors? Help me here- where did that come from? Anyway, I like it and when I write about my great-granduncle Barney B. Jacobs who taught at Harvard University but was kicked out for betting on Yale I’m sure I’ll mention them.

– “The Hustler Book of Sexy Sea Stories.”

It is a little unfair putting this here. I know exactly where this will be used. My only problem is that I need to come up with the proper wording. I am maybe going to change it to “The Hustler Book of Salty Sea Stories” so I can “confuse” the terms salty seamen and salty semen in a funny way. (This is why I don’t write for Penthouse Letters.)

-“Looks like something that fell out of the herpes tree.”

Another swipe. This needs no explanation. Just imagine how bad someone must look if she fell out of the herpes tree. And who would be climbing in a herpes tree, anyway? Look, if you think too hard you think the funny right out of it. Laugh and move on.

– “Because I’m stupid like that.”

-“I’m the biggest idiot in the room.”

 More self-deprecating humor here. (Perhaps self-defecating would be better, I don’t know.) Anyway, this is funny because we all know that, really, I am usually the smartest guy in the room. I am just too modest and humble to point it out. I always like to look out for the little people. Makes them feel special. (No, not you, Dear Readers. You are all brilliant and beautiful.)

So there you go. Just a few of my as-yet unused Out Of Context Classics. I’m sure that I might use some of them in the future. And why not? These are already written. Why should I waste time coming up with new stuff?

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