Pictures

It’s occurred to me that photographs have made the transition from nostalgic to narcissistic. I suppose they’ve always been narcissistic to some degree, which makes me think that history contains a sense of narcissism. But if narcissism is present in the attempt to preserve history, why that just might be the best use of narcissism ever.

The Black Uniform

The other night I was driving in the rain. I was on my way to a lady friend’s house to share some comforts. I was almost at her house when I slowed to make a right turn. The rain was coming down at a sprinkle, but the conditions were enough to bring a fog to my windshield and for some reason the streets seemed darker than usual.

I didn’t bother to put my blinkers on. I eased into the turn nice and slow. When shockingly I noticed a man standing three feet from the curb on the street. He was an old man. Dressed in black. He was wearing a black hat. And had a long white beard. The only thing I could see was his face. I slammed on the breaks and compensated the steering wheel to avoid hitting him. He shuffled back onto the curb to avoid being hit. The man was a Hasidic Jew coming back from synagogue. I nearly killed him. The black uniform at night was a down right danger for all parties concerned. The man could’ve used some blinking lights, or reflecting armbands, anything to keep the uniform.

The Tree Trimmers

It was just after seven thirty in the morning when I heard the faint sound of a man talking in Spanish. Shortly after that I heard the high pitch humming sound of a chain saw. A few seconds after that another chain saw started up. I tried to sleep it off, but I gave up and made some coffee instead. It’s the lord’s day for gods sake. I thought about calling the police, but that seemed like a lot trouble, and chances are they wouldn’t even show up. By the time I figured out what number to call the tree trimmers would be packed up and gone. I guess that's the price you pay for living in the city.

I read the paper on line with the sound of chain saws in the back round. The paper was disappointing the same mumble jumble bombings from religious factions, and what not. When holy people go to war, it looks bad on religion. I grabbed my guitar and battled the chain saws with a song from the Kinks, Sunny Afternoon. Great song excellent craftsmanship, a real bitch to sing though.