Crazy post
Oct. 13th, 2014 01:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
vicarzI told Janna I was heading to monkey village and she thought that was crazy; it is. I joked I should be wearing a trenchcoat, but the more accurate truth would be a red and blue windbreaker or perhaps denim jacket...oh oh oh member's only with shoulder straps that do nothing, suede after I had a job.
Played classic rock on the way out - including keeping it on through songs I hated (I always remember hating soft 70s songs, or was that my attempting to be masculine?).
Played through some memories in no order for no reason: Kelly in a nightgown that she thought was sexier than I did, how she looked in those poses she saw in a magazine, that guy spitting on my back in the arcade and the pretty girls that laughed about it, Marc's lie-story about telling black guys that Aerosmith made that walk this way song, running from a large group of black guys (driving) from the High's parking lot after Greg heard chatter on the cb when he was rumored to have ripped someone off in a drug deal, that guy in the YMCA sticking his penis in my ear and his friend scolding him, me picking on Tony Wang in the same place - his father telling him not to react to such bad behavior and neither of us thinking much of that advice, then...just places, places I was.
It's been raining all day, not the sprinkles ending soon they stated at 6 this morning. I stopped for lunch in a chinese restaurant, cheap, in what was once the village mall. Oddly heard a couple black guys, sketchy looking, talking to the host ... asking for someone, told he was cooking, and one complained they had just driven all the way here from DC. They were shown to the back where they were for some time, left just as scowly as they looked when they came in. Now that shit's curious.
I have no idea what I am actually doing out here.
Post apolalyptid roundup: You can't go back so you might as well move on.
I've thought about returning for literally years, but my walk around the place took only an hour; I'll spend more time commuting than being here. Yes, the signs are the place has gone downhill in a lot of ways. The tunnel where I got high and was robbed (by a ubiquitous group of black guys (one of whom I knew, Artie Fisher)) that Jen and I compared racist, punk, ghettabulous, and stoner graffitti is completely gone - filled in with dirt so you'd never know it was there. The YMCA is completely gone. Giant is even folded, now a global foods. As I was told, Mills Choice is now Heron's cove, though the street signs still are labeled Mills Choice. I saw a window with a window a/c unit though they all have central.
When I walked here with Jen it was magic, but that magic was inside her head, my head, and we desperately wanted to hump which likely skewed the impression. We wanted to hump a LOT.
Today I ... I keep remembering, but it's nothing important. Who lived where, the trees that are gone, names. I would remember something, remember their name, shrug. Nothing. What's in a name, the memory exists but isn't important.
I looked at my old house, it and many of the neighbors were in so-so to bad condition. Across the street a house had condemned and winterized warnings all over the door. Like you would if you went any place you used to go, there were things that changed, and things that did not change.
I was not flooded with memories. Not from my childhood, not from my tweens, teens, or 20s. There was and is no magic here, and no magic answers. I caught no ghosts, so it's only me that's haunted.
So you can't go back; probably shouldn't go back. Might as well move forward.
Played classic rock on the way out - including keeping it on through songs I hated (I always remember hating soft 70s songs, or was that my attempting to be masculine?).
Played through some memories in no order for no reason: Kelly in a nightgown that she thought was sexier than I did, how she looked in those poses she saw in a magazine, that guy spitting on my back in the arcade and the pretty girls that laughed about it, Marc's lie-story about telling black guys that Aerosmith made that walk this way song, running from a large group of black guys (driving) from the High's parking lot after Greg heard chatter on the cb when he was rumored to have ripped someone off in a drug deal, that guy in the YMCA sticking his penis in my ear and his friend scolding him, me picking on Tony Wang in the same place - his father telling him not to react to such bad behavior and neither of us thinking much of that advice, then...just places, places I was.
It's been raining all day, not the sprinkles ending soon they stated at 6 this morning. I stopped for lunch in a chinese restaurant, cheap, in what was once the village mall. Oddly heard a couple black guys, sketchy looking, talking to the host ... asking for someone, told he was cooking, and one complained they had just driven all the way here from DC. They were shown to the back where they were for some time, left just as scowly as they looked when they came in. Now that shit's curious.
I have no idea what I am actually doing out here.
Post apolalyptid roundup: You can't go back so you might as well move on.
I've thought about returning for literally years, but my walk around the place took only an hour; I'll spend more time commuting than being here. Yes, the signs are the place has gone downhill in a lot of ways. The tunnel where I got high and was robbed (by a ubiquitous group of black guys (one of whom I knew, Artie Fisher)) that Jen and I compared racist, punk, ghettabulous, and stoner graffitti is completely gone - filled in with dirt so you'd never know it was there. The YMCA is completely gone. Giant is even folded, now a global foods. As I was told, Mills Choice is now Heron's cove, though the street signs still are labeled Mills Choice. I saw a window with a window a/c unit though they all have central.
When I walked here with Jen it was magic, but that magic was inside her head, my head, and we desperately wanted to hump which likely skewed the impression. We wanted to hump a LOT.
Today I ... I keep remembering, but it's nothing important. Who lived where, the trees that are gone, names. I would remember something, remember their name, shrug. Nothing. What's in a name, the memory exists but isn't important.
I looked at my old house, it and many of the neighbors were in so-so to bad condition. Across the street a house had condemned and winterized warnings all over the door. Like you would if you went any place you used to go, there were things that changed, and things that did not change.
I was not flooded with memories. Not from my childhood, not from my tweens, teens, or 20s. There was and is no magic here, and no magic answers. I caught no ghosts, so it's only me that's haunted.
So you can't go back; probably shouldn't go back. Might as well move forward.
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no subject
Date: 2014-10-13 05:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-10-13 08:20 pm (UTC)Taoist exorcism: put that shit down.
no subject
Date: 2014-10-17 04:19 am (UTC)I related strongly to this. The woods and fields where I used to roam are now "Tahoe Court" with McMansions that are "underwater" as in worth less than what is owed on them. Apparently the Gen-Y families don't want an acre or five of grass to mow, and the Boomers are drowning in property tax but can't afford to sell. Lots of empty stores on the highways too. It gives me a weird feeling to see it.
no subject
Date: 2014-10-17 09:42 am (UTC)