Winter

I think it was Jon that said it standing in front of the Lickety Splitz in Bellflower. Pair of girls walked into a liquor store, near our age but classier in the starting winter chill of Southern California. Warm day turned into cool night so the long coats over mini skirts more fashion than function.
‘I like girls that swish’ he said as they piled into the car and drove into the night. Both of us left to wait and wonder. Nothing for us but to stand around with no plan or goal for the evening, give up and head our separate ways to repeat the night a few more times before I left. Stellar end to a stellar week.

Hurrying to my bus in Seattle I’m reminded of that saying. Almost midnight on a Friday near Downtown, a long day at two jobs, covered in glitter, grim and grief. Waiting to get home and put the last 14 hours of various bosses, double standards and box pushing behind me. Drink a beer, watch some cable and try to make a weekend out of it. Ignore the cabs dropping off well dressed sophistos, hipsters and the past 30 set trying to hold onto the illusion of youth. Dressed to the nines in either too much or too little, stumbling down uneven streets to some poorly lit bar that traded in more ambiance than alcohol. Dark but never dank which is what I wanted at that moment a place to lose the past day.

Past a young man too gone with exhaustion to care wanting to be home, peel off his workman blacks and get to bed.

I envied them. But had that vague feeling I couldn’t go into their world. Something kept me out of it.

Maybe it was the faded blacks, the tool bag or the glitter that looked like I lost a fight with an elf. Either way they passed by with only dirty looks as I waited for my bus.

‘Does this bus go to Ballard?’ it was soft and sweet breaking me out of the funk that was brewing. I looked over. She was even less prepared for the winter than me. Wearing shorts and chucks, shivering under a long crocheted (or knitted) sweater, ‘Yeah should be here soon I think… not sure really’ she asks if I had a long day and I laugh admitting it didn’t seem that way at first. She smiles looking somehow out of place from the Friday crowd just a little detail betraying the whole. I ask what brought her to Seattle and she tells me about her friends and family. Mentioned a brief description of places far away as I waver between awake and asleep nearly forgetting her name as the 15 pulls up.

She climbs up, hesitates, pays and sits down. The bus is half a block away before I realize it was yet another chance I missed.

Personal

It said something about zombies.
Something about a zombie plan but it was buried in a long list meant to scare off any potential spamming or stalking, maybe a real person sat at the other side typing each entry on the list and then submitting it to craigslist, either way I bit.
I was alone, burning some kind of midnight oil in Lake City. Away from the action and life of the city, in the outer limits of Seattle drinking cheap beers then watching someone get tattooed meant a Friday well spent. Walking past the crumbling facades of the main drag, car dealerships closed for the night, down steep hills to my house but not before buying a few Steel Reserves from the Shell on the corner. The late night cashier joking with me about buying 4 and planning a busy night. Laughing trying to convince myself I wasn’t ready to venture into Rick’s. Pay to see some boobs and have some girl feign interest but looking for a tip. Instead I held out hope that I could find someone for free.
No dice at that point.

I was too young for the girls that go for a guy renting a room and out of work. Hunting for jobs but being too picky for most. Barely talking to people but trying to be around them. Hoping after hope my phone would ring and things would turn around and something would change. Or an offer would be in my inbox and suddenly I’d have somewhere to go that wasn’t the library, bar or coffee shop. Ignoring the looks of people that wondering what I was because I couldn’t be homeless and being in the wrong place to be rich. Maybe a student? Who else would need the coffee and the library?
Yeah that kind of woman was still a decade or two off for me drinking cheap wine ‘til dawn and finding solace in being together back then I had to settle for being alone.

On craigslist personals I saw the ad and responded. By then it was just like looking for a job or getting a dresser. Give some details, interest, and send it off. Hope there’s a person on the other side and wait.
Always waiting.
Eating gyros and looking at model trains. Anything to waste time before I headed home to find an empty inbox and then it was too late to make calls or maybe there were no new jobs to be had. Watch tv and wait. Look busy and cook up some dinner and catch the news.
Act like I wasn’t out of work and bored, questioning my choice. Wondering was someone interested in my zombie plan instead of posting for a late night amusement some last laugh before bed.Either way I drank my beer, watched the news rebroadcast and went to bed.
I never got a response.

Whatever happened to Wally George?

It must have been a weird day quite a long time ago, looking through the videos that the Blockbuster staff hadn’t reshelved. I forget what Al and I were looking for but Wally George came up and dropped a few videos in the drop box. Al waved. I, too much in shock, couldn’t think of anything to do. Now I’d do the raised fist greeting but then not so much.

He’s dead now, not Al, (he’s still up and kicking) which leaves the southland without a great white conservative hope. A man broadcasting on KODC from a crappy set somewhere in OC and yelling at pseudo liberal guests while his station runs phone sex ads. He was some kind of staple and now that he’s gone and, I haven’t found his NW equivalent, I miss him. Not in anyway that his politics swayed me. Hell the first time I watched him his guests were witches and I remember writing a letter (that may or may not have been sent) saying how he was dumb and the witches were hot. But that’s the sort of thing a kid would write, especially a kid buzzing on Dr. Pepper and the thrill of staying up all night.

Sure he was a kind of home grown Rush but with a John Wayne poster and doing spots for local business. Complaining about the state of things in front of a crowd of rabid white suburbanites, barely letting his guests get a word in but there was something about his toupeed head that made him worth watching. At least in those dead hours of the night after Are Oh Vee and before anything good would start up. Then again if I was lucky some bad movie would be on and I would watch Wally George. But I wonder about the guy, even if it’s a question of who’d win in a fight Wally George or Cal Worthington (without his dog Spot).