Umbrella
It was cloudy in the Baltimore suburb but nonetheless the June heat rose from the tar-lined streets into the bare feet of two small boys, one a few years older than the other, at play. The older boy was waning on puberty and had tussled wavy brown hair down to his forehead and murky hazel eyes which reflected a resilient joy emanating from a pressing darkness. The second and younger wore his hair short cropped and blonde as well a mischievous smile plastered on his face. The younger looks at the older and lets out a short laugh.
“Aye Mike, you think Dot got a kick out of that old watermelon on her step”
The older one, distracted by the impeding weather, turns around and matches his companions smile
“That crazy woman will probably think that it’s a sign from God for her to take up gardening, remember when we walked on the roof and she swore she heard angels coming to take her home!”
Dot was in fact, in a functional sense, crazy. Being prone to superstition, dillusions, paranoia, and otherwise making a ruckus about the mundane, she was often the victim of some of the neighborhood youths malicious intents. Mike had often throughout his short life bonded with his peers at the expense of Dot.
It is at this notion that Mike begins to reminisce about the kinships that had come in gone in the neighborhood; the children whose footprints were left in the muddy yards of his neighbors after heavy rains, and who had smelled the hot tar in the summer sun. There had been a host of them.
The first was a small dark haired girl named Raeni. Her mother was a single schizophrenic woman who made a habit of staying up at night pointing a flashlight at the trees. She would knock on other peoples doors asking them for help to get rid of the people in here trees. The neighbors, having taken into account her violent tendencies and considerable stature, would placate her and assist in ridding the imagined miscreants from her property. Raeni luckily had not inherited her disposition, disorders, or stature, but still nonetheless bore the mark of budding dysfunction. Prone to flighty displays of aggression followed by apologetic dependency Mike often found himself in constant conflict with his young friend, followed by consolation at her sincere lament towards her actions. A cyclic pattern Raeni made up for her lack of sincere attention at home with Mikes. Not to say that there wasn’t a positive note! How often would they spend their allowances on snacks and lay out at the Methodist church yard a few blocks over and have a lazy picnic in the shade. After they were through the would climb the tree and perch in its limbs playing house, with sectioned off branches facilitating different rooms. Young Mike and Raeni would shrill with laughter as Mike pretended to walk in on her in the shower or Raeni would exclaim “The baby is on the way! Hurry get me to the hospital!”.
A day came when Raeni disappeared forever; they just packed up and left, but the house wouldn’t remain vacant. Alex and Chad, two boys around Mikes age moved in with their mother and stepfather, and the two families took a liking to eachother. The brothers step-father worked 7 days a week and would come home and drink away the afternoon in the typical manner of the functioning alcoholic, their mother, having grieved her divorce and regrettable new love turned to Mikes mother for support, and money for a habit they both shared for narcotics. While the parents were at play, the children attended to serious business. Alex, Chad, and Mike would roam the neighborhood causing trouble as the situation called for; Sticking potatoes in tail pipes, ruining flower beds, creating a recipe for imitation throw up: Toothpaste, orange juice, outmeal, shaving cream, coffee grounds, and dirt. If there was a vandalism on the block, chances are the trio had some claim to it. Of course it goes without saying that the affairs of children and their guardians did not often intersect.
A day came when Alex and Chads mother split from her current husband and moved into a small apartment in the next town over with her sister. The boys previous step-father, got a job on the coast and left soon after leaving the small house across the street vacant again
Other people came and went, a young black couple, two middle school boys named Stephano and Giovanni, lonely older gentlemen who cultivated flowering bulb-plants. But time passed and it had been awhile since Mike had a partner in crime and he often played alone in the backyard being transported to distant kingdoms, planets, warzones, and domestic affairs.
Eventually the well-kept flowers in front of the neighbors house began to wither with the older gentlemen who kept them, and he moved into an institution. His children, both adults, drove up to the house to pick him up and take him to the home and Mike remarked it was the first time he had ever seen them, even though he had been ailing a while. A week afterward a van from the institution collected his belongings, and once again the house was vacant.
The day that Brad moved in, Mike sat with wonder at the window gazing at his new neighbors. There wasn’t much to look at, a small town car loaded with clothes and knick knacks was followed by an old flat-bed Ford with a futon, a mattress, and a few unmatched chairs strapped together with a garden hose. A weathered blinde hair woman drove the car and stepped out to give directions to the younger man in the truck
“Preston! Park on the curb and you and Brad start getting that shit in the house, Im gonna go to the bathroom. Ill be back”
The one called Preston got out of the truck and rolled his eyes at her and stretched, rolling his broad tattooed shoulders over his back.
“Were always getting your shit for you, why don’t you act like you got legs?”
The question caught her without phasing her and she replied with a few unprecedented explitives before heading in the house. From the passenger seat the blonde-headed boy Brad crawled out of the car and looked at the load scratching his head.
Naturally over time Mike befriended Brad and once again he tromped the neighborhood, having picnics underneath the oak tree at the Church house, and dashing across crowded roadways to buy candy from convenience stores.
Its raining in Baltimore and Mike and Blade dash to gather their belongings from underneath the oak tree; a small backpack, several cool looking sticks, and a travel sized black umbrella they had brought for this occasion.
“hurry were getting soaked!” the younger yells to the older
“Alright hold on” Mike replied in accordance, pushing the button on the black plastic handle and raising the umbrella up above their heads.
They walked together underneath the sprawling arms of the black cloth, both with one clenched fist on the handle. Their feet sloshed beneath them as they waded through puddles and the ever flooding streets, as they walked down the familiar city blocks and sheltered each other from the rain.
Z-Pocs at SFA
Im walking to the East College Cafeteria yesterday and a girl coming from the opposite direction is looking down and limping really badly. as I get closer to her her eyes slowly flutter upward and she looks enraged.
No joke I almost punched her in the face and ran away.
I think she was just in pain from some sporting injury.
I told her about Flanery’s life and his love for his parents. I told her about his view of love on Twitter and the story of him and Donut and, at the end, I go; “And if anyone doesn’t see what a great man he is they’re crazy.” And she stops, pauses for a second, and then nods and says;
“He seems…
I think the word “Adores” should be replaced with “grudgingly respects them out of love for you and your enthusiasm for unhealthy hero worship”
Only like six or so episodes ago Daryl was keeping his distance. He flinched when Carol touched him. Hell, the only time this man ever came close to physical contact with another human being was because he was about to hit them or they were restraining him from hitting someone else.
And now, in…
My dad made the connection that Daryl is the Antithesis of Shane. A character that is simultaneously evolving as Shane devolves.
Think about it—Lori is playing Lady Macbeth. She’s already planted seeds of violence in Rick’s mind—already suggested that not only does Shane think he can’t protect them, but suggested that she might believe him. She’s taken steps to turn Rick against Shane already.
And then Dale died. And then…
Ok so lets talk about wonderful plotlines
Maggie and Ashe im pretty much aiming this at you
So Shane was destined to be a walker. To sink down into the depths of the depravity that the world had offered him. He was practically made to be one, by predisposition, and by circumstance.
We can talk about whos fault it was that he went off the deep end…His love for Carl, Lori, Rick. Its funny how in the end his fatal flaw was love inspired envy, but thats beside the point. What I want to talk about is the amazing writers on the walking dead staff.
Episode 17 the ambigous shadowed walker was trudging through the field towards the farm. Thats when I knew crap was gonna go down the next episode. ONLY Shane noticed it, not just noticed it, but accepted it. You can tell there was introspection going on. He knew he was becoming a monster. And Rick, he was too blinded to notice, same vehicle, but he is too busy looking ahead. The walker itself, shrouded in black, no distinguishable features. Could have been ANYBODY! Shane is looking in a mirror, but for a moment lets entertain the idea that if Rick would have stopped to look, it could have been him as well. The purposeful movement of the Walker towards the camp lets the viewer know that Shane is bridging the gap between man and monster, humanity and depravity.
So I told me parents this before we watched the episode today so this isnt hindsight bias. I told them that Shane was destined to be a walker, that it was the only way for him to symbolically complete his transformation. “
Thats the difference between Shane and Rick
Rick battles his monsters. Shane transforms into them.
Late nights with the latest music
Music does something to me it makes me think. It fuels my life. When I was younger that’s all I could ever think of being apart of…music. I wanted to be a singer but the reality of that is I’m ok singer but not famous status. Also Im shy & im realistic now that as long as I live i need a career and singing was not going to be it lol. I grew up on what I’d like to believe is beautiful music. Beautiful words dancing all over strong,smooth, jazzy, melodic beats just does somethin for me
I love this and I understand entirely
