Snapshots from a drive home from work while listening to the new Ween album, which is fantastic if you like Ween, and I do:
Three shiny balloons trapped in the branches of a tree above a baseball diamond.
A long strip of aluminum foil tumbling like an acrobatic hallucination down the middle of LaSalle Avenue.
A shirtless man wearing a sombrero and laughing ecstatically while trotting along beside a prancing little dog outfitted (I’m guessing against its will) in a purple vest.
An old woman, holding a little girl’s hand at a street corner, bending down to clearly hiss something in the girl’s ear, and then whacking her on the head with what appeared to be a Bible.
A fireman dozing off in a lawn chair in front of a fire station.
An awkward young woman alternately lurching and tip-toeing along on roller blades.
A teenage boy sucking a hickey into his girlfriend’s neck at a bus stop bench.
Mormons on mountain bikes, poking through things at a garage sale.
A pitiable spectacle involving an ancient hunchbacked man and a microwave oven he was apparently trying to carry home.
Two hearses lined up at the entrance to a senior citizen center.
A man I recognized as my old friend Clammy Reese, wearing threadbare golf togs and toting a bag of clubs, standing at a busy intersection with a sign that read: “Indulge me, why don’t you? Winter’s coming and green fees ain’t free. God bless you, I guess.”
A sandwich shop with this modest slogan painted on the window: “The Best Sandwiches We Know How To Make –That’s A Promise!”
Hundreds of geese in a supermarket parking lot, from the looks of things holding some kind of meeting, probably having to do with a planned trip south. Do geese in fact fly south for the winter? I don’t know why they wouldn’t.
An inexplicable billboard: “Music is Not a Priority in Unhappy Lives.”
An morose-looking young mother watching her two children burying themselves in the playground sand, and thinking (or so I imagined): “Deeper.”
Leave a Reply Cancel reply