A Few Bits From This Weekend

Going in here didn't have it's usual thrill for me. I mean, I was thrilled in the "look where I am" sort of way. But what really depressed me was all the water. It had poured the day before, but was clear that morning. Inside though, even on the third floor, with like at least three floors above me, there was water just pouring down the walls and collecting on the walkways. Most of the buildings I go into have already been abandoned a long time ago, and are more landscape than useful structure. But this place didn't have to be this way, if only someone would fix the roof. It will be completely unusable as anything else within the year. And I thought they were going to sell it? Or remake it? Or something. It's just a proud old building where people used to do good things, and now it's just being left to rot away under the rain. It makes me sad for it. But I'll probably go back, like some voyeuristic bone picker. The Wasteland isn't all fun and games. It's also, you know, waste.


On a happier, cheerier note, have I mentioned how much I love The Sign Guy? I suppose as long as there's always one guy like that in Tremont, we'll all stay sane there.

I'm getting the whole biking thing. I like it. But its still so painful. Here is a picture of us, or rather them, fixing their bikes, the curse of the "bringing the bike out at the end of summer" crowd. But it worked out in the end, and they didn't get too frustrated when I had to turn around because my legs were trembling after a paltry few miles. Because they are nice. My bike's name, meaning the actual name on the frame cause I don't name my modes of transport, is the Stump Jumper. I couldn't really beat that anyway. I don't feel up to that bike. It wants to go offroad, and tackle fallen logs, and be all cool and shit. I want to coast along silent and slow, maintaining my balance and trying not to freak out when passing dogs.



I was waiting for them back at the parking lot, and ran into two old ladies who told me about monkey balls, that fall off a certain tree, and will keep spiders and centipedes away if you leave them in a dish in a corner. Which prompted us to poach some, or rather prompted me to make my friends help me get some for my house, because I hate centipedes in my personal space. They should be called monkey brains, since that's what they look like, not balls. They are kind of hairy though.

Jere was missing, kidnapped? on Monday, so Charity and I went driving around the Flats. I know it looks sunny, but Monday was the first real day of Fall. Look at the clouds, you can tell.


I don't think I will ever get tired of living by the river. Or rust. I'm really partial to rust. But I wonder how many pictures of the glass factory I will take in my life. I will make a collage of all them someday. It's just endlessly fascinating to me. I keep hoping to find another huge purple glass skull of discarded melt, like the one we found a decade ago, that I think got stolen when that Chevy did.


After driving around for bit, we went to the West Side Market. We were bored. I tried to take a few shots, but the market is so utilitarian to me, and not as interesting as it was when I was a kid. It's where old Polish ladies buy blood sausage for Easter, or where that used to be. I didn't see any blood sausage there that day, but I certainly saw enough jalapeno sausage. What is the world coming too? I'm sure it was the Monday light that did it, but I searched for that raspberry yogurt I used to get, and all I found were tightly wrapped cheeses from other places not Ohio. It's good. It's just not old world good.


I bought some jerky, a few slices of Swiss, half a cheese apricot strudel, and a large kosher pickle.
Later, my headlights both went out at the same time, and today I got my first loaner car from a mechanic, who by the way constantly refers to me as married, though I'm definitely not. I don't correct him. Sometimes it's an advantage to have them think you have a husband. Winter is coming.