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runswithscissors


Thursday, July 03, 2003

July 4th. July 3rd, according to the calendar, but actually July 4th. I can tell. In the first place, all the local holiday festivities happened today in defiance of the calendar's version of linear reality. Second -- and this is the more crucial giveaway -- firetrucks and ambulances are running around the countryside, sirens whooping hysterically. All the way out here -- officially the middle of nowhere according to the U.S. Geophysical Survey -- where I have never before heard or seen a fire truck in emergency mode.

It's a dangerous state, independence. It leads to the gathering of humans where children run rampant while adults consume great honking piles of meat, quaff oceans of potent liquids. After which they ignite powerful fireworks. Resulting in emergency vehicles getting a good workout.

Speaking of workouts -- this morning: got up at an excessively reasonable hour, tossed my gym bag in the car, followed back roads into Montpelier to be a good workout do-be before the facility closed mid-afternoon to allow people to get started on the meat, potent liquids, fireworks. Stopped at the post office on the way, where I noticed that the clerk had a large, strange-looking effigy of a U.S. soldier to one side of his station, a soldier gripping a pole from which hung an outsized American flag. The effigy: more than a foot tall, dressed in khakis and helmet, eyes and mouth wide open, combat-boot shod feet spread apart, planting him solidly on his small patch of simulated earth. The mini-soldier stood atop an oval pedestal, a large red button bulging out of it front and center. The clerk -- a bearded, balding, good-humored, eminently likeable 40ish type -- saw me checking out his flag-bearer He smiled broadly, reached over and pressed the red button. Immediately, the soldier began singing "God Bless America" at the top of its plastic lungs, waving the flag jerkily about, rubbery plastic mouth moving stiffly in a bizarre imitation of singing. All I could do was smile broadly back at the clerk, enjoying the spectacle. One more in that ongoing parade of spectacles we call life.

After the gym, walking around town taking care of various errands, sun shining through hazy clouds. On impulse this a.m., I'd thrown on good black jeans, pointy black boots, a nice, light silk Hawaiian shirt. Which left me seriously overdressed as everyone else sported warm-weather super-casual duds: t-shirts or polo shirts, shorts, sandals (with or without socks) or sneakers. The same number of people piloted vehicles or roamed the sidewalks as on a work day, more or less (not counting the souls seated at tables in the front yard of a church up the street hoovering down a pancake breakfast). Different attire, though. No work gear.

Families paraded about. Folks looked to be enjoying the start of the long weekend. It was nice to be in the middle of it.

Stopped in at a video rental shop, an episode from the first season of Star Trek: The Next Generation played on the store television. The shop had a good sound system, rendering the background noises of a starship clearly, vividly. The counter help and I discussed the pleasures of TNG without commercials, of episodes from the days when Riker was young and sleek, minus the heft and hair of later seasons. Of Worf, Data and Q.

And the morning moved on. As did the day. Early afternoon found me back here on the hill, swapping email with friends, doing laundry, mowing lawn, continuing to shovel my way through the remaining post-Madrid, post-travel chaos here in the house.

It's evening as I write this. Outside, lightning bugs cruise for love, choruses of crickets sing in the grass, quiet and tranquil. A large ceiling fan spins above me, providing relief from still, humid air.

July 4th. July 3rd, according to the calendar, but actually July 4th. With a whole 'nother day of it coming tomorrow.

rws 10:59 PM [+]
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BLATHERINGS

August 2001
September 2001
October 2001
November 2001
December 2001
January 2002
February 2002
March 2002
April 2002
May 2002
June 2002
July 2002
August 2002
September 2002
October 2002
November 2002
December 2002
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July 2003
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November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
February 2009
March 2009
April 2009
June 2009
July 2009

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MORE FOCUSED BLATHERINGS


Travels:
London '01
Pamplona
Italy '03
U.K. '03
Sevilla
Casablanca
Stoke-on-Trent
Barcelona
Québec/Ottawa
Boston/Lisbon/Madrid
Italy '04
Montréal
La Sierra

Events:
Madrid -- arrival
9/11
Emergency Room I
Holidays 2001
Holidays 2002
Holidays 2003
Holidays 2004
Holidays 2005
A neighbor's passing
Madrid -- March 11 bombings
  and aftermath
Emergency Room II
Israeli friend/Madrid Marathon
Madrid -- Royal Wedding
The DELE exam

GONE, a novel:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10

THE BASTARD CHILDREN OF
JOE ROCCO, a novella:
-- Part 1
-- Part 2
-- Part 3

BURBANK SHRUGGED,
a screenplay:
-- Part 1
-- Part 2
-- Part 3
-- Part 4

Short stories:
Murphy's Wife
Another Autumn
La Queja de Una
  Hermanastra Muy Conocida

Autobiography
-- Personal History
-- Hormones On Parade
-- Accidents, Random Mishaps,
    Personal Problems

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OTHER SOURCES OF WHOLESOME ENTERTAINMENT

People/Weblogs:
dooce
foxvox
fudge it
fear not
rebekka
bookslut
802online
idle words
madhaiku
wockerjabby
grow-a-brain
rebel market
letting me be
out and about
kung fu grippe
fanatical apathy
baghdad burning
wfuv's music blog
kexp's music blog
mimi smartypants
between the miles
just a hippie gypsy
the impossible cool
tomato can brushes
vermont homestead
sugar mountain farm

Good Clean Fun:
gizmodo
futurismic
postsecret
dave barry
human clock
mcsweeney's
spaceweather
book-a-minute
internet archive
self-portrait day
my cat hates you
out of context quotes
surrealist compliment
  generator
strindberg and helium

Makin' Musical Whoopee:
last fm
stereo8
pandora
soma fm

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ABOUT RWS/CONTACT





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runswithscissors would like to thank everyone who's ever lived for everything they've ever done.



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