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One Red, Two Green, Chocolate Cream Pie3/5/2000
Today I visited Mr. Wilson's Arboretum which mostly got me thinking about Red Tail Hawks, a personal favorite, but I had already been thinking about birds because over at the new house where I work slowly but surely, still sifting through nine years of accumulated garbage (today I focused exclusively on the styrofoam plates in the back corner of the lot, six garbage bags worth), there is in the neighbor's yard a palm tree, two actually, which in the last two days at not exactly, but close to, high noon, there has been a visitation by two--Parrots?
So I went up in the Dumaine attic which is the last place I saw my Field Guide to North American Birds because I don't believe in wild parrots in North America even though I understand they have them in the Miami area. There is nothing in the "green" section of the book resembling the two green squawking, not chirping, birds. The Internet helped me find more personal bird lover pages than I had time to peruse. It doesn't matter what they are really. Another dose of not seen before works for me.
I am a lame duck in this household and try not to impose my controlling manner more than necessary. Exceptions have arisen on the several occasions that our new boarder, fifteen-year-old Shelton Jackson, has tried to burn the house down. I'm sure I have too much pride so the loss of it which occurs when I scream obscenities at the top of my lungs into the face of an apparently indifferent but fairly troubled teenager can perhaps be justified as a cleansing. I can hope anyway, because I don't think the alternative--Who Wants to be an Asshole--would sell even to Fox. Shelton's response of "My bad Mr. Jim, my bad," while appropriate as an apology to throwing a bad pass or spilling punch on the floor is not what I want to hear in response to my initialIy calmer efforts at explaining why it's a bad idea to leave electric appliances running while he goes off to school to await his next suspension. Or why it's a bad idea to quick dry your clothes on a gas space heater while he hangs across the street with the gangbangers, practicing bad attitude, and inhaling the second hand blunt. As for the fashion sense of the inner-city teenager which has him defying gravity with his pants hanging loose below his butt, boxers to the world, I say nothing. What the fuck do I know? As for the lyrics he mimics, likewise.
I spend my days as the housepainter, back at English Turn, this time across the pond ("Bonita Bay"), from Mr. Cash Money's house. Cash Money produces rapper, Juvenile (Back That Ass Up), and several others, and like Master P, has transformed his experiences growing up in the New Orleans projects into a rap music production company worth tens of millions. The other residents of English Turn (for example the house next door which we also painted) pretend a disdain of their new neighbor and his occasionally overflowing entourage (straight outta the Magnolia Projects, baby), but secretly (yes, I know their secrets), are thrilled to death by this proximity to the notorious. Not to mention--"they run around that house all hours of the night with no clothes on, and no curtains over their windows."
Most evenings/afternoons I go straight to my new blighted property and at least go through the motions of some kind of productive activity. God grants me darkness at 6:30 so I leave out, grab fast food on N. Broad, and then head back to Dumaine to rinse the filth. There I am met by various realities, hopefully none too upsetting, either way, the morphine of exhaustion often has me sleeping by 8:30. Unfortunately this new schedule sometimes has me waking up at 3:30, which is two hours early for me.
Carnival has been running for about a week. I have caught a few parades, did Endymion last night, drank five beers, today thought I would die. Grand Marshall Britney Spears acted like she didn't even know me.
Short day at work tomorrow, next day is Fat Tuesday, no voting here, huge party, or thousands of little ones citywide, if one is so inclined. A lot of people leave the city for Mardi Gras and that will probably include me in future years.
And lastly, it's that time of year again, the St. Augustine Purple Knights have struggled as reigning 5A state high school basketball champs, but still, with a 24-9 record have found themselves amoung the final eight best teams in the state. Should they beat Hammond next Friday(a team I watched them beat earlier this year), they will advance to the final four tournament in Lafayette and that of course means one thing. Road trip for Slim, Cajun accents, cheesburger, fries, and chocolate cream pie at the Waffle House. Purple Knights don't fail me now.