Strange Angels & Karmasites!
Sep. 14th, 2005 02:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jack_babalonOn Sunday, I was feeling bored and restless and with a only another hour or two before sun down I decided to go out for a quick spin down the bike trail. On my way down Briarcliff Rd, approaching the corner of Ponce De Leon, I encountered one of Atlanta's more notorious locals - the mysterious Waiting Man. There he was as usual, dressed in his all white outfit consisting of a white shirt, white shoes and white bicycle pants that reveal to anyone driving by, the full length of his cut if I make myself clear. He's been standing at this corner for the last few years, always with his trademark cane and always wearing his very revealing bicycle shorts. He has his fading hair done up in long braids, which give him that last years of Miles Davis look. As I bunny hopped off a chunk of broken pavement and dodged a pool of shattered glass he looks up at me and says
Watch out for the vine!
I nod and pedaled even faster. I assumed he was talking about his humungous schlong for some reason, and wanted to put some distance between us before this got embarassing for both of us. But then at the last second I saw I was heading straight for a low hanging vine barely visible in the declining light. I quickly pulled an 'Annie Oakley' on my bike, riding my baby while standing on one pedal and guiding her to a gentle break. I turn back to the Waiting Man and yell a quick 'Thanks'. Without looking at me he just lifts his cane quickly in what I assumed was some form of salute. I pedaled down to the bike trail feeling that wonderful glow you get in the gut when a random stranger does you right for no reason at all but to do you right.
Last night before we snuck into Ansley for a late night swim, (a pre writting ritual my friend and I indulge in before downing bourbon and espresso until we get the muse good and shit faced before having her sing off key for our little 'project'), we had to stop at VideoDrome(tm) so I could drop off some movies. I go in, hand 'em over to the clerk, check to see if Undead is finally back in, of course it's not. I step outside and typical to character my buddy, Mr.Gregarious here, is chatting with one of the locals. I walk up to the car, spider sense tingling but i'm pretty sure this guy ain't a threat to anyone but himself. I decide to pull a Sherlock Holmes and see how much I can read off this cat with a glance- here we go:
A plastic bracelet with numbers on it. First guess is a club band to allow him to drink. Then I spot the numbers. Defintely just released from the hospital, probably Grady and fairly recently.
A black eye, healing. Probably the reason for the bracelet.
Fore arms are full of faded inks. The blue-green color that was black ink decades ago. Most likely jail or military.
Slurred speech but no alcohol on the breath. This isn't some piss bum whose had a few too many Old Kentuckeys, this is the slurred speech of someone who has sustained serious neural damage over the years. Some people have Gay-dar, I have it with cops & retards for some reason and it's blipping & dinging hard in his direction. There are two kinds of homeless to me. The first and for the most part the majority of them are just people down on their luck, victims of their own bad decisions. Not scary or nothing, just people like you or me who ended up in a bad place- which is no place actually. Then you have the second kind. Karmasites! You know the type, they pick up on your scent when you pass them by and they end up following you around sprouting incoherent threats or prophecys from frequency psycho.05. These cats are bad news and like any demon out of a Grimoire, they feed off recognition and have lost their names so even the most attentive magickian will have no power over them. This guy is defintely a Karmasite and right now he's currently giving my buddy shit for driving a FIAT~
"What kinda car is that..?"
"Can I geta ride"
"Well that ain't no American Car is it?" He asks all three in a row just like that. Uh-huh, thanks for the observation Captain Pissed-his-Pants, but we got us a nice pool waiting on us and every moment you suck us dry of our positivity is a moment i'm not swimming. I hop in the passenger seat and we peel off. He staggers after the car a bit, think the zombie chasing Barbara in the beginning of Night of the Living Dead and you got it right. He suddenly bellows out, much louder than he should be capable of -
"Be careful- Don't wanna be gettin' in no accidents in that thing"
The words hit me under the skin and in the back of the neck. Death Magick, I got a radar for that too. Then it happens as we cruise down North Avenue. Everybodys driving like an asshole all of a sudden. Not just normal Atlanta asshole driving, this is balls to wall cars popping up out of nowhere in front of us without a turn signal then hitting their brakes. Towncars racing through red lights that almost collide with us head on, the concept of turn signals has been abandoned and the locals cross the street in a sleepwalkers trance. One car bolts out of a parking lot, almost crashing into the car in front of us and if my buddy was a little slower on the reflexes we would have ended up rear ending it. That's when we realized that that old fuck back in the VideoDrome(tm) parking lot laid some kind of Jinx on us.
"Fuckin' Psychic Vampires Man!" I yell to the wind behind me, knowing full well he can hear me.
"Relax we're almost there. The water'll soak it out of us..."
"Yeah if we can reach the pool in one piece!"
We manage to pull in. Pop the code. Strip down to our trunks and while my buddy wades in, I walk around the pool three times, counter clockwise (is that widdershins or deosil? I keep forgetting that one) trying to shake the scent of the jinx hounds off me. Then at the third turn I suddenly cannonball into the deep end and let the cold shock the bullshit out of my system. We swam a good hour and then made our way back out to do some writting. The traffic was back to normal and we both felt relieved knowing the bum hex had wore off with the water.
Watch out for the vine!
I nod and pedaled even faster. I assumed he was talking about his humungous schlong for some reason, and wanted to put some distance between us before this got embarassing for both of us. But then at the last second I saw I was heading straight for a low hanging vine barely visible in the declining light. I quickly pulled an 'Annie Oakley' on my bike, riding my baby while standing on one pedal and guiding her to a gentle break. I turn back to the Waiting Man and yell a quick 'Thanks'. Without looking at me he just lifts his cane quickly in what I assumed was some form of salute. I pedaled down to the bike trail feeling that wonderful glow you get in the gut when a random stranger does you right for no reason at all but to do you right.
Last night before we snuck into Ansley for a late night swim, (a pre writting ritual my friend and I indulge in before downing bourbon and espresso until we get the muse good and shit faced before having her sing off key for our little 'project'), we had to stop at VideoDrome(tm) so I could drop off some movies. I go in, hand 'em over to the clerk, check to see if Undead is finally back in, of course it's not. I step outside and typical to character my buddy, Mr.Gregarious here, is chatting with one of the locals. I walk up to the car, spider sense tingling but i'm pretty sure this guy ain't a threat to anyone but himself. I decide to pull a Sherlock Holmes and see how much I can read off this cat with a glance- here we go:
A plastic bracelet with numbers on it. First guess is a club band to allow him to drink. Then I spot the numbers. Defintely just released from the hospital, probably Grady and fairly recently.
A black eye, healing. Probably the reason for the bracelet.
Fore arms are full of faded inks. The blue-green color that was black ink decades ago. Most likely jail or military.
Slurred speech but no alcohol on the breath. This isn't some piss bum whose had a few too many Old Kentuckeys, this is the slurred speech of someone who has sustained serious neural damage over the years. Some people have Gay-dar, I have it with cops & retards for some reason and it's blipping & dinging hard in his direction. There are two kinds of homeless to me. The first and for the most part the majority of them are just people down on their luck, victims of their own bad decisions. Not scary or nothing, just people like you or me who ended up in a bad place- which is no place actually. Then you have the second kind. Karmasites! You know the type, they pick up on your scent when you pass them by and they end up following you around sprouting incoherent threats or prophecys from frequency psycho.05. These cats are bad news and like any demon out of a Grimoire, they feed off recognition and have lost their names so even the most attentive magickian will have no power over them. This guy is defintely a Karmasite and right now he's currently giving my buddy shit for driving a FIAT~
"What kinda car is that..?"
"Can I geta ride"
"Well that ain't no American Car is it?" He asks all three in a row just like that. Uh-huh, thanks for the observation Captain Pissed-his-Pants, but we got us a nice pool waiting on us and every moment you suck us dry of our positivity is a moment i'm not swimming. I hop in the passenger seat and we peel off. He staggers after the car a bit, think the zombie chasing Barbara in the beginning of Night of the Living Dead and you got it right. He suddenly bellows out, much louder than he should be capable of -
"Be careful- Don't wanna be gettin' in no accidents in that thing"
The words hit me under the skin and in the back of the neck. Death Magick, I got a radar for that too. Then it happens as we cruise down North Avenue. Everybodys driving like an asshole all of a sudden. Not just normal Atlanta asshole driving, this is balls to wall cars popping up out of nowhere in front of us without a turn signal then hitting their brakes. Towncars racing through red lights that almost collide with us head on, the concept of turn signals has been abandoned and the locals cross the street in a sleepwalkers trance. One car bolts out of a parking lot, almost crashing into the car in front of us and if my buddy was a little slower on the reflexes we would have ended up rear ending it. That's when we realized that that old fuck back in the VideoDrome(tm) parking lot laid some kind of Jinx on us.
"Fuckin' Psychic Vampires Man!" I yell to the wind behind me, knowing full well he can hear me.
"Relax we're almost there. The water'll soak it out of us..."
"Yeah if we can reach the pool in one piece!"
We manage to pull in. Pop the code. Strip down to our trunks and while my buddy wades in, I walk around the pool three times, counter clockwise (is that widdershins or deosil? I keep forgetting that one) trying to shake the scent of the jinx hounds off me. Then at the third turn I suddenly cannonball into the deep end and let the cold shock the bullshit out of my system. We swam a good hour and then made our way back out to do some writting. The traffic was back to normal and we both felt relieved knowing the bum hex had wore off with the water.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
on 2005-09-14 08:21 pm (UTC)Anyway, the now rare-from-me work-time LJ reply!
I've heard of the man you speak of, btu never (knowlingly) seen him. I HAVE, however, seen these street archetypes:
Baton Guy
The Old Black Man in a Suit of Ansley Forest
The Gutter Leprechan (I see him EVERYWHERE)
Ye Olde Trannie of the Ansley Forest
And, of course, the moth man.
~rl
no subject
on 2005-09-14 08:32 pm (UTC)y'kno maybe we should work on a field guide of the 'local color'so to speak.
no subject
on 2005-09-14 08:46 pm (UTC)And it's bound to be good for the 'local color" as well... dispel some of the myths out there... because I'm sure the old man with a cane is tired of strangers asking him if he *really* has a forked lizard tongue--or that the schlong man has simply stopped trying to be nice when telling weeping mothers that they can't touch their children's malformities to the tip of the blessed member.
~rl
no subject
on 2005-09-14 08:48 pm (UTC)I Have Known Most of Them
on 2005-09-14 09:49 pm (UTC)Screaming Dread Lock Guy
Jerry Garcia
Wolf
Crazy Clown Grandma
Schlong Armstrong (Is what I call that guy, as in Lance & bicycle pants)
Tina, the World's most Sensitive Transvestite
Crazy-Eye Dukes (His last name is Dukes and he works at the open door--he has a eye that is mostly shut)
(The Ever-expanding)George Brit-- looks like a really fat Grisley Adams
OCD Pamphlet Man
The Stinky Cheese Man
Martha Jewart
And the list goes on but I got to go home...Oz just calle dto pick me up. We are still car-sharing.
Re: Screaming Dread Lock Guy
on 2005-09-14 10:00 pm (UTC)Re: Screaming Dread Lock Guy
on 2005-09-15 02:57 am (UTC)Bicycle Pants
on 2005-09-15 02:58 am (UTC)no subject
on 2005-09-14 08:23 pm (UTC)ALSO: Undead was in yesterday afternoon. I saw it.
no subject
on 2005-09-14 08:33 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2005-09-14 08:49 pm (UTC)I'm working up to asking them if they have "The Pig-Fucking Movie..." One of those arthouse/crap video nasties I've been wanting to hunt down and see for years. It's said to be amazingly boring and quite disturbing--it's also super hard to find.
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0072355/
~rl
vIdeO Nasties
on 2005-09-14 08:59 pm (UTC)I'm sure they've had stranger requests there, besides all the pig humping is done off screen (just like on TJ Hooker), so they'd be down with that.
Oddly enough I found out the Steven Soddenbergh's(ok I can't spell his name) Kafka movie was never released on DVD for some reason.
Re: vIdeO Nasties
on 2005-09-14 10:22 pm (UTC)~rl
no subject
on 2005-09-14 08:45 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2005-09-14 08:52 pm (UTC)"What is up with those pants dude?" is not gonna go over well.
no subject
on 2005-09-14 08:56 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2005-09-14 09:40 pm (UTC)Sister, I've seen him for 8 years now.
no subject
on 2005-09-14 09:42 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2005-09-15 03:00 am (UTC)no subject
on 2005-09-14 09:54 pm (UTC)What is the deal with him???
no subject
on 2005-09-14 10:01 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2005-09-15 03:36 pm (UTC)so whats this bout you moving out on the 4th? where you go?