Sunday, October 30, 2005

Consumer warning


Don't let anyone call you a consumer. It sounds like what it is, and what it is,is, yecch!
Off the tall bike, when I see construction sites, my brain sees them as termites, eating away at a giant log and turning it into a self serving hill of re-arranged, spit-up particles.
When I was a stupid kid (28) I was hitch hiking through Oklahoma. As night fell, my strategy was to find open country, or woods, away from people before I slept. One night I came upon a whole herd of Giant metal Termite Tractors with big claws and armor. They had been hammering this little woodland Eden all day and by the next, most of it would all be gone.
Through a clearing behind those ugly beasts I could see what was to come of that land. Glowing a half mile away and behind the Oklahoman moon I shuttered, BEST BUY. The sign glowed in the sky so brightly that it reflected off the clouds giving the whole place the feeling of being in electric blue office lighting.
I kicked my shoe off (I'll tell ya why I was wearing only one shoe in another story) and reached into my fudge crusted bag (same story as the shoe) and pulled out a crayon(Sharpies weren't invented when I trekked across Oklahoma). I wrote on the door of the muddy thing, all my grievances, why I chose to relieve myself on the door handle, how they could be just as enriched by stewerding the land and why they must stop.
Yes I know what your thinkin, what a nerd! YUP! Guilty as charged, I didn't even write the note in English, it was all in theban, an ancient language adopted by occultists around the turn of the last century hahahaha!
I felt the tattered ground between my toes and I could instantly feel all the critters that had been lived there before. Some dead all displaced or claimed by the road. Not one of them had pockets, thus no money = No need for a BEST BUY or anything like it in their living room. I sat on the thing and thought about it. Suddenly, from the deep woods I herd a howl. I dropped down to a crouch and quickly put my shoe back on. In my bag I carried a small brass telescope. I pulled it out and looked in the direction of some backlit piles of dirt near the darkest woods.
I counted 1,2,3,5,7 lost count, a bunch of coyotes or wolves or wild dogs (packs of wild dogs run the night where I'm from in south Texas) I was watching them and admiring them when it dawned on me that they were in fact hunting me. I know what that looks like from being back home in Corpus Christi.
I took my eyes away from the lens and sitting right to my left was a tiny school of deer. They had zero fear of my nerdy, hippy, clown self, what was I gonna do to them, play awful guitar or perhaps swing my shoe at them? I told the deer closest to me that "those sunsabiches (really) were after all of us" and they should skidattle. The deer looked over to the BEST BUY sign and we both knew they had no place to go. They took off anyway and I hope they made it ok. The canines were still getting closer to me so I took off running down the direction of the BEST BUY sign and made my way out of the demolition zone by jumping and dodging holes like an ice cream truck in a battlefield.
I was up against a lot, but in those days I was on the road solo, a road dog, I didn't get in cars as much and had no real destination. I was used to sleeping in the rain, eating bugs, getting hunted by mountain lions and most dangerous of all REDNECKS IN FRIKKIN OKLAHOMA,TEXAS AND ARKANSAS.
So running at speed, sustained was no problemo, the thing was that to those dogs it was even less of a problemo and they were closing in fast. I found a fence and jumped it, and then from some peoples backyard I watched the great looking dogs run by howling and hooting, still couldn't see who they were. I walked into civilization and came to a 24 hour fast food joint. I walked in and they must have thought I was a clown version of Jesus because the guy getting himself a burger looked at me and said to the other guy,"Jesus, look at this clown" in a thick Oklahoman accent. I did look pretty "road worn" with just the one shoe, covered in sweat, blood (from the rebar sticking out of concrete rubble) crusty fudge down the front of worn army pants, shirtless ond unshorn.
I had a shirt in my bag I promise.
The fella bought me a milk shake and some fries, then gave me his smokes and I left. I stood out there in the electric blue glow and decided to take my chances with the dogs. It didn't matter much, by the time I got near the woods again the sun was coming up so I guess the woods got consumed.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

i love your stories... you should write a book !

Anonymous said...

Actually, he IS writing a book, which is currently being edited (by me).
The working title is " A Shmanarchist tale," and it's a real howler -funny, sad, wierd, and not entirely untrue!