When I was a kid in school, I would crap out on Thursday. However, even though I moaned and whined at the time, I went to school anyway; while my old mum wondered: why not Wednesday? Why not half way? Well, it was Thursday that often proved to be the obstacle. To no avail, of course. Now its just Thursday and I note that often it is a day to create something just for me. I troll and I roll!
And somehow there was some kind of residual memory of those big Thursdays because it was past three when I went out into the end of summer weather to catch the sun. There is a lot of scope in this neighborhood to go and see something different. It is always fascinating to me to see what people look like and what they wear in other parts of the city after our homeless and scruffy crew lurking our local streets. Uptown people had a shower this morning and their shirts are clean!
I went again today south through to False Creek which is a crafted body of water that once was easily twice this size and which in this century is an arm from the wider strait. Here there are sundry harbor installations which are moorage for a rich variety of yachts and even some sports fishing boats. There are paved roads over the whole distance almost all the way around the creek on both shores.
The sun brought people out to walk, to bicycle, to roll just like me; kids played in the ribbon of park some of them on the monkey bars and sand plots, some throwing balls around. People brought out the dogs. These are always special friends of mine even when I know neither these animals or their owners. I love the dogs, all of them and I am happy they go home with their people. I get to tune into critters and play.
I have a theory that at some point all the tribes of animals got together and agreed: we cannot talk to these two leggeds anymore! Indians told me once: it is our turn to learn their language. So, I talk to the dogs and often as they do, ignore their humans.
I went all the way over to the Granville bridge, up the hill there under the arching roadway easily upwards of 4 stories above me. I go along to Howe street and a block east to roll down the up town ghetto area that is on the more southerly part of the Granville thoroughfare before the road over the bridge. There are bars and adult theatres, there are vintage thrift shops side by side with places where an assortment of sex toys are available. I have one totally hilarious story of finding a lurid florescent purple dildo the size of an ear of corn in a wild stream outside of Weed, CA where I was about to camp. Never forgot that one! There is the tawdry here mixed and matched with smart men in suits slinging brief cases. Why are they called: brief? There are homeless lying around the doorways often asleep on the pavement. Well, when your needle trip goes most of the night, day is for sleeping. I am amazed how they are so exposed; simply so done that anywhere horizontal works. I had a conversation the other day with a wiped out young guy who was asleep at the edge of a cross walk in Gastown. Could not get through that he was dangerously exposed in that place.
Then closer to the core of downtown, the stores upgrade to Nordstrom and Marc Jacobs, Prada and Eddy Bauer. The ladies strolling these parts are in their high heeled sneakers and the inevitable black outfits. I never wear black and really cannot say what the thing is about black black.
I wind my way down town, down from the harbor area east along to Water Street where it’s mingle with the tourists who come to cruise the fancy shops and the tourist stuff entrepreneurs, alongside the ‘Hop On, Hop Off “ busses inching their way through the two lane traffic. My favorite organic coffee shop is here and sometimes I stop to enjoy an afternoon cuppa joe amid the bustle. Sometimes even some ‘to die for’ cheesecake.
Home again, home again as there is a very late afternoon hush as the working people have almost made their exit from our metro. I am ready for the evening with my flower pots and the computer sending you a rolling note about my day. And how are you this day reading my ramble. Be well. I am!