May 30 2006 Boulder this weekend

Well, I really don’t quite know where to begin. It started off as a normal American holiday with the city abuzz in the dawn hours with 50,000 people attending the Boulder Boulder 10 K race…..6 blocks from my house. I was going to run it…but didn’t train……yet somehow going for a run in a carnival atmosphere so early in the morning just didn’t seem right. So i fed the birds and had coffee and sat on my deck, alone and desperate…………My life didn’t seem right……somehow not fullfilled. I had reheated some day old coffee and leaned back and looked up at my half painted house. The painter had taken the day off……….My staff was gone……….

In a corner off the side of the deck lay 30 potted flowers ready to be planted………….which i knew i had to get to before the sun baked them. That meant work………..and i was fucking sick of work.

I didn’t want to be alone , yet I relished it. I knew I really needed to get laid. but that didn’t appear on the immediate horizen………..so I was left to planting flowers.

As i knelt planting away……….I waited for the annual sound of F-16 fly over headed toward folsom field signaling the official begining opf summer. and then as if on Que I could hear the slow and low roll of thundering fighter jets…………….and stood up….there they were……..4 battlestars in fine formation.

(where the fuck were you on 911?……off the new jersey coast that’s where……at least you here now…..I wonder if thy’re armed>)

the President came on CNN from Arlington national Cemetary…………going on about the dead. i thought of my dad who fought on D-day, the youg man i mentored who returned last summer from 4 years in the marine corp and saw action the whole time and the old man who lived down the street who died last year………….He was dixie democrat who grew up a dirt farmer in Tennesse and served in the navy during WWII. L C Birchfield was also a convicted moonshiner who ran a still at 14 and used to tell stories of out running government agents on Roan Mountain where he grew up. I used to tell LC we should buid a still in my back yard. He remembered exactly how to distill corn mash.

The phone rang. I t was Kim. She had walked the BB and wanted to know if I wanted to meet her at the Creek Festival…………I wanted to kill myself out of loneliness……….but decided that had to be some amusement walking with thousands of touirists in crowed hot lines just to see the cornball booth.

So I put my new running shoes on , hopped in my new Hybrid Escape and glided silently down town,

I had been to the creek festival so many times……………..knew every booth……every junk seller …..every guru tent……..every save the earth, save the whale, save the God Damned Darter Snail display on main street. Thank God we left and got some iced tea at the Tea Spot near the fountain on Boulder One Plaza. Why can’t these new age old lady tea joints have lemon wedges for thier too strong bitter black tea.? Jesus is that too much too ask? Kim was in a serious car wreck several years ago……and she showed me her scars. I was glad to see that she was still alive.

I gave Kim a hug goodbye headed back to my house jacked up on caffine. I was feeling happier…more alive……..I don’t remember the drive home…………just that i found myself at the computor writing and the phone rang. It was Laura Hall calling from a car dealership. Laura is a photographer from Denver who is also recovering from an automobile accident. She wasn’t operating on all 4 cylinders that day. Her new ford focus was giving her problems and she had taken it back to the dealership and they were attempting to sell her another car rather than fixinmg hers under the lemon law.

I said” Jesus Christ! Laura……you are going to lose thousands if you do this”

” well, I don’t know what to do. I left my car in Denver and they came and picked me up” I’m stranded here.” she said

“look, you’ve got to get out of there. you are vulnerable right now. you’ve been kidnapped and the bastards are going to rape you” I pleaded.

I met Laura at the block busters a few blacks down the street from the dealer. i had told her to walk out the door and get away from there as quickly as possible. So now it was a trip to Denver doing my civic duty to protect yet another head injured friend. (Gee maybe laura will fuck me. Fat chance .She was raped by her father and she trusts me. ) But it was fun cause we stopped in some slacker bar across rom the Bluebird theater and had cokes and and a chicken sandwhich. A thunderstorm blew up as we sat by open windows facing Colfax Avenue…………….Dinero says the rain ‘washes away all of the scum and filth of the city………but somehow this was pure……..even though cofax can be a shit hole……….my motives had been good that day and I didn’t have anything to regret.

From America’s most famous small city
Boulder Colorado

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