Jaywalking & You: A Guide

This is not a guide to jaywalking. It’s a humorous story; I lied.

Now that I’ve got your attention, please enjoy this anecdote. ‘Twas written by a dear friend of mine, Archibald Smittens*, who is a real person** who actually exists***.

*: Not his real name.

**: Not true.

***: Censors have attempted to verify this for years. None have, as yet, returned alive.

[Your Humble Editor also feels obligated to preface by saying that the low-fat version of cream cheese DOES NOT taste the same. He does not wish to spread such malicious lies. Anyway, without further ado…]

3 Perspectives on Jaywalking

Perspective 1:

The red hand. Just great.

9:27—three minutes left. The coffee shop’s only what? three, four blocks away? I can still make it…

The woman next to me just quickly skimmed the empty road and then jaywalked. More like a leisurely jay-stroll. What’s she thinking? Back home, no one would ever do that. Ma would’ve killed me. It was either jaysprint or jaysplat.

Still no cars, and that red hand’s still there.

Well, maybe it is time for a jaysprint.

But I’m in a suit; that’d look weird…right?

Middle-aged guy checks his watch, gulps down a half-chewed bite of bagel, and then rushes across the street. Didn’t even look both ways. Actually looked kinda cool doing it.

Well, until he dropped the bagel.

Maybe I should bolt across too. Like one of those guys from the movies.

Oof, curbside puddle. Just great.

Ah a dry patch. Perfect.

Wait.

Who am I kidding. I can’t.

My foot returns to the curb, defeated.

The empty road stares back.

Maybe… Just maybe…

My foot lifts off again.

Maybe just this once…

And the red hand turns into the white man.

Oh well. Right. Left. Empty road.

At least, Ma’d be proud.

Perspective 2:

Damn good bagel today. Think I’m gonna stick with this low fat stuff. Tastes pretty much the same as the regular cream cheese.

Countdown stops. But that stupid hand’s still there.

Chunks getting stuck in my teeth? Gotta check before I walk in the office.

Oh wow, now dumbass over here walks across the intersection. No hesitation. No urgency either. The hell’s wrong with her?

No cars out there, but seriously, lady? Can’t wait like two goddamn seconds for this light?

What’s the deal huh? Late or something? What’s the time anyways?

It’s only 9:28. Really? C’mon lady?

9:28!

Shit! Move people, move!

Yeesh. Took ya long enou—

Shit! No time to pick it up.

Perspective 3:

Red.

Right. Left. No cars.

Let’s go.

Travel Log 191014 (Redacted Version)

Start: Myschevia Festival, Armadillo Acres, Hughes Springs, TX. 

End: Outside the Town Square, Downtown Hughes Springs, TX

Notent Notables: 

  • Drove from Hughes Springs to Gilmer to retrieve Smidge. 
    • Smidge did well at the sitter. No accidents, no fights. Nothing to report. Great. 
  • Drove back to Hughes Springs so I can pick up my letter from [redacted] when the post office opens tomorrow. 
  • Met all sorts of great people during my last ranger shift at the burn, during teardown/exodus.
    • Helped the Fairy Tale camp remove their tent stakes. 
    • Hugged many people. 
    • Discussed fireworks with [redacted], the firework designer at Myschevia; he invited me to help design them next year. (He designed the greatest fireworks show I’ve ever seen, even better than the 6 years I’ve seen them at Burning Man). 
    • Received a new art to hang on my wall.
    • The North Texas Regional Burn’s walkie talkies are crap. They still run a very well-organized burn. 

Quotent Quotables: 

  • “In a culture so steeped in toxic masculinity, any emotional expression must come out through machismo.” -A Guy at the Burn, on why the North Texas Regional Burn is so Punk Rock.

Next stop: Austin. (Tomorrow?)

  • The poly pod I met last night wants me to visit them. 
    • They have “three dogs and a driveway.”  I want to [redacted]. 
  • [Redacted], the dude with the [redacted] tattoos invited me to [redacted]. 

The Fiercest Chihuahua You’ve Ever Met

In this corner, at five-pound-four and thirty inches long, she’s the fiercest chihuahua you’ve ever met. She defends her food with the courage of a Rottweiler. She’s a fierce mama bear with six gnawed nipples to prove it. She marks giants’ territory as her own and likes her scritches… ruff.

 

Ladies and Gentlemen…

 

 

 

 

The one and only…

 

 

 

 

 

Smidge

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Want more Smidge? Comment with a request. 

Pancho & Lefty.

Me: “Sometimes I talk to myself subconsciously through song.”

Friend: “Music has mystical, magical powers.”

I’m learning to play the mandolin. Today was day two. I listened to Pancho & Lefty on repeat. Every version by every artist. Then I played it over and over. Then I recorded this.

I’m not a singer. I’m not a musician. That doesn’t matter. Today I was.