Telegram for Ms.Veronica Lashe. Telegram for Ms.Veronica Lashe.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY RETRO-QUEEN AKA shar_katye

Scenes from my ReaLife: Spring On Ponce

I look up and realize that i've just missed the #2 bus (Avondale Station). Blame vomikronnoxis, who got me Umberto Eco's The Name Of The Rose for my birthday. I started on it yesterday, and though delayed by many trips to the dictionary, haven't been able to pull myself away from it yet. However it was getting close to 9 o'clock and if I didn't want to hang out at the station for another 45 minutes I figured it was best to leave Brother William and young Adso unattended at The Abbey for a little bit while I made my way home.

It was a beautiful night out. I stuffed my jacket into my pack back, lit up a Camel for the march and decided to take the 'scenic' route home.

It didn't take me long to attract the attention of one of the walking dead. I was crossing Peachtree and Ponce De Leon, right by the Fox Theatre, when I bumped into this guy walking the opposite direction. I made my apologies quickly and he just peeled back this creepy ass smile at me. The kind of smile you give at a singles bar. Suddenly as I pass him he stops in his tracks, turns around, and with the same evil idiot smile on his face starts following me.

Now you have to picture that this guy looks like a fat Spalding Gray, he wasn't a bum but he wasn't dressed up enough to be doing the Fox theatre mind you. After a block or so I criss crossed back and forth across the Avenue. This fuck actually staggered into traffic after me. I had a hundred horror movies flash in my head and then I thought to myself that I could take the next corner, duck and wait for this cat and just pounce on him right there and then. Then I thought how that would look, yours truly working over some middle aged guy, the locals would feature this for Romper Stomper 2 and i'd be calling my folks collect from Fulton Lock Up.

Besides what if this was some weird kind of urban tulpa or Ultraterrestial? Then i'd be in the shit knee deep and rising. So like many a fine Mosca man before me, I opted to out run this sick fuck and worry about him if and only if he was still keeping up with me by MLK Blvd. I moved with the speed of the ancients, as my Grandad would say, and what exactly that means is beyond me but I imagine it was pretty fast (at least until that whole combustion engine thing came along). I zipped down through a few parking lots and cut through a gas station. I checked behind me and Granpa Pervy was nowhere in sight. Keep walking Rob and don't look back.

But when one travels through the spirit realm, you quickly learn that if one 'demon' has seen you then they all have!

'HEY MAN!' this shuffling fuck up is bellowing from the across the street. I'm in front of the Yaarab Temple on Ponce De Leon. Behind a wrought iron gate is a statue of a fezed shriner, in one arm he holds a child and in the other he holds a scimatar. Outside of him it's just me on this side of the street, I look around and see no one else. Neither does the guy across the street.


'You know i'm talkin' to you! Hold up I wanna ask you somethin'' The guy is shirtless and carrying two plastic shopping bags stuffed with...something. He limps into North Avenue and is almost mowed down by a speeding cab.

'Hol' up. I just wanna ask you somethin'' the guy repeats, his voice unusually and unnecessarily loud. Well i'm sure he's right. He probably just wants my opinion regarding free will versus determinism, maybe he's perplexed about the concept of Platonic ideals or perhaps he saw me reading my Eco and wanted to know if I could recommend a book. I guess i'll never know because my ass just kept walking.


The Yaarab Temple on Ponce De Leon
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