Stranded

Saturday:
Well after my last post I headed out into the elements in a desperate attempt to reach civilisation,i.e. THE PERIMETER. Sleet pelted my face numb and I took little baby steps across ice that cracked under the boots. I managed to get to the bus stop and I did a little shiver dance while I waited.
And Waited.
And waited some more.
And finally 5-0 comes driving slowly down the road, it veers across the empty lanes of traffic and pulls up along side me. Old instincts tell me to run or prepare to lay down some serious Bullshit. The window rolls down. The officer has a little boys face with a crew cut to add a little touch of butch to him.
"Go back home sir. The buses aren't running."
"At all?"
"Not here."
"How 'bout the 91 or the..."
He just shakes his head no and he actually looks apologetic.
Heh. Just when I thought i've seen it all. The civiility is the first sign that this must be a rookie.
"Do you need a ride sir?"
"Nah. S'alright I'm only down the block."
The rookie nods and rolls the window up and pulls out into the slush.
My best friend lives right down the block and it's a little closer than home. I head over. Make some calls to people who were expecting me. Apologize. I collapse on his couch and soak up some heat. Watch a stupid movie on the DVD player. Sip Jack Daniels from a flask and head back out before the sun goes down.
On the way home I realize I'm outta cigarettes. The wind howls. The nearest place is roughly two miles down the road. It's times like this I really hate living in the goddam sticks. So just like the storys your Grandad used to tell you "Back in my day I walked two miles in the freezing rain for a cigarette. Bah you kids and your nicotine downloads..."

Stranded.2-The Weekend OF Solitude!

Saturday:
The storm didn't just dump a few inches of freezing rain and then pass up the Mason-Dixon line spreading a little seasonal chaos. It left in it's wake a different world, a small pocket of a different reality. I'm marching to get some smokes. Marching is the right word, because the snow crunching under my boots makes it sound like i'm two stepping with an invisible regiment, there must be a dozen of us according to the echo. The sun is going down but you can't really tell. There was no daytime today. There's only Night and not-Night. I'm between the two. Down the lenght of the road you can see the trees hang low with the weight of the cold. Crystalized pine needles each wrapped in their own private icicle. I snatch one off as I duck under the branches. I suckle on it to satisfy the oral fixation the cigs have given me. Mmmmm it tastes like Christmas Trees. There are patches of ice that just pop up on you- long streches of frictionless road and each step is gentle, very small, a bull sneaking out of a China shop. The wind roars and sends down a cascade of sleet on me. I just stand there and force myself not to give in to instinct, to dodge or sidestep. Some of it goes down my bomber and I yelp like a little girl. The wind howls back a laugh.
I resume taking baby steps but to the side rather than forward so I look like i'm crab scuttling or line dancing. I make it to the swail right by the road. The grass sticks up straight and is frozen solid. Walking across leaves a different kind of crunching- I'm Godzilla walking across Tokyo, in my wake the crushed skyline of the frozen blades of grass. I get a burst of sleet coming down. It lasts a few minutes. Shake it off and keep going, keep marching and I can see the Shell Station sign up on top of the hill. I cross the street and dodge a car that either had no brakes or was NOT going to brake for me. The adrenalin is pumping in me now and I take the rest of the slope at a light run. I get in and the clerks behind the counter just look at me confused- like a Orangatang just walked in and asked for the Sunday paper. Much to my suprise theres a Mexican couple in front of the slot machines in the back. Oblivious to me or the elements. I pick up a cup of shitty 12 hour gas station coffee for the warmth more than anything else, I grab some candy bars as well along with the Camels I needed. On the way out I pause at the door. A car screeches and almost spins 360 at the light into a pick up truck. Another burst of sleet comes down hitting the glass of the door in front of me like pellets from a BB gun.
"You don't want to go out there" one of the clerks says.
"I know" I say like a little kid who got caught doing something wrong and had to own up to it. I close my eyes and breathe deep. I push the door open and force one boot in front of the other, back and forth, and back and forth
This is the only truth a man can know sometimes. That he must go forward no matter what lies ahead.

Stranded.3 - Melt

Sunday:
I wake up and lay in bed staring at the ceiling.
It sounds like rain on the roof but it's just the world melting around me.
Walk to the store to get a MARTA pass. Everythings back to normal. The streets have regained traction, the leaves are free of their icey burden, streams trickle down the gutters and gather in puddles down the corner. There are scattered signs of the storm that passed. On Valley Bluff Rd a fallen tree is caught and held by the phone wires across the street. It creates a guillotine effect and the cars drive slowly under it, excercising a rare caution. Every lawn has patches of ice left and the streets and roads are filled with shattered branches. The most telling effect is that the air is cleaner from the reduced automotive activity of the last two days.
I come home. I take down the trash. I bring up the mail. Clean the bathroom. Do some laundry. The phone doesn't ring and no one answers my calls. The roomies are gone. Alone. The most wonderful and horrible feeling in the world. I sit in my room and get drunk on a cheap bottle of Merlot. I fire up my decks and DJ for the cats. Most cats will dance to anything really, but these cats have a paticular fondness for the Clash, Pixies and Concrete Blonde. I oblige them drinking the wine straight from the bottle now- wino style. I chain smoke in Lotus posistion in front of my decks. The Ganesh statues stare at me, elephant heads looking at me like i'm some kind of sad, friendless fuck. I shrug helplessly to them and keep on playing. The cats are tired now and the alcohol is starting to seep into the quiet parts of me- I switch to Robert Johnson, Leonard Cohen & throw in some of the "O'brother" soundtrack. The ghosts in the house pass by me invisibly. It's dark outside my window. I turn everything off and stumble over to the living room to watch the Simpsons.
I pass out in front of the TV.
I have a weird dream. I forget most of it but the ending. I'm trying to clean out my room and I find my old "Hawkman" Superpowers(tm) action figure inside a pair of old shoes I'm about to throw out. I had forgotten about this toy. I squeeze his legs and a pair of gray plastic wings flap.
I don't know why this makes me sad, but then I realize i've gotten him back to late. I'm to old to play with action figures.
I wake up to the NEWS, eat dinner, watch more TV and stumble to bed.
I'm staring at the ceiling. The cadence of the melting ice falling down on the roof lulls me back to sleep.