I hear church bells ringing. Morning is gone.
There are either no, or few enough people on the street this morning for an overweight, run-of-the-mill, general Joe, and most probably, perfectly nice white guy walk/jogging down sidewalk to be singing out loud to whatever is playing on his ipod. (I swear it sounded like he was saying “starbucks”… I hoped he wasn’t. I dislike Starbucks.)
AND it IS an ipod he is listening to… b/c of the tell-tale white earbuds. Why don’t they make them colors to match the pods, or at least give us a choice to be less visible, STARK?.. oh but why do that?? It is a label. When you see those white earbuds, you know they have an Apple in their pocket.
I resent the stark white wires advertising that I would be a vulnerable (deaf) target with an expensive treat in my pocket while I walk around the corner and down the block each night from my parked car to my apt. entrance. Always very few people on the street, sometimes I am completely alone. Occasionally I pull the earbuds from my ears and stow the wires away. But often I have found that I am too lazy, or interested in the story I am listening to, or… or… well you know how excuses go.
Sometimes I appreciate the bright, showy, white wires highlighting the fact that I may not hear you well if you speak to me. So please do not attempt casual, unnecessary conversation. Thank you but I would rather be listening to my book than having to respond. It disrupts my thinking.
My windows have been open all night. It is an overcast day and the breeze feels cool and exciting coming in the window. I like to feel the breeze on my feet. This kind of morning is my favored time to write. It is mornings like these the creative things come. Flow out of me, if I sit… and let them.
I’ve been seeing more scooters with a similar body style as my Clementine on the road of late. Or perhaps, it is just two (one silver, one black) and I am seeing the same ones because we live in close neighborhoods.
I suppose I don’t mind. (other scoots w/same body style) I SUPPOSE. *still pondering it* But I am not sure, as my instinct is to dislike other people having anything similar to something I also own and covet. (this just entered my head, the last line of Tigger’s song about Tigger’s when he first meets Winnie the Pooh: “… and IIIIII’mm, the-only-one!”
I was labelled once to be, less so a “lone wolf”, but rather… an independent story. I think I will always remember that.
Clearly, (hello narcissism) I loved the observation.
Watching people walk by, especially on mornings like this (Sunday, very few people. Shops closed)… is like spying.
Have you ever walked down a quiet street, window shopping or just looking around at things? You are not doing anything wrong, or inappropriate, just walking, looking in windows, talking with a friend who is with you? … You wouldn’t imagine someone might be watching. Watching as you stop at a shop window, some unseen person noting which ones you stop at and how long you look, examining the dog whose lease you might be holding onto or the way you are dressed (head to toe), forming ideas. Ideas/opinions that mean nothing of course. (Though, mind, they may not be, and generally are not, negative… as my deepest and most natural inclinations are kind.)
Would it make you feel ill at ease to know some unseen person is studying you? You may act the same. But I ponder the awareness alone could quicken your step. No longer stopping to peer curiously into windows, or you might not sing aloud, knowing someone you cannot see is watching, listening … It is why I use the word, spying.
I have jotted tasks on a notepad lying next to this computer. Things I need/want to do this morning. I want to get up from this writing desk and do them, soon. I wonder if I will.
It is so quiet on Sunday mornings sometimes I can hear the footsteps of someone walking below, on the opposite side of the street from my windows. But only briefly, because a car, or a conversation will pass by quickly enough.
Little claws scrape or prick my foot from time to time.
She knows I did not give her the entire can of food, she knows she gets the rest when I go back into the kitchen for a coffee refill.
I ignore her. She goes away. For a time.
I wonder if I should actually post these random thoughts as they are so that I may rise and get on with my morning. No grammar check, no rewording. (Translating the thoughts so that someone outside of my head might grasp a meaning or two from the randomness. )
Not much morning left, the grains of it slip so quickly through the tiny opening. I know this because I watch… sneaky little stream of grains. Mesmerizing.
Sometimes cars sound like scooters. My head turns to catch a glimpse as they pass. It is disappointing.
Scooters never sound like cars… and motorcycles are just too loud.
Ex-cept, sometimes the rice bikes, crotch-rockets, the… what else do they call them?.. speed bikes, street bikes… When cruising slowly past in traffic, they have a stealthy purr. I don’t recognize they are there until they are directly underneath my window. I do not care for the look of them (the style of bike) but I do appreciate Ninja stealth.
It is such a beautiful feeling, this morning air. Mesmerizing.I hear church bells ringing. Morning is gone.
I must go… *sigh*
