Not sure who they really are. Maybe they feel the same way about me. Or, about themselves.
Just some guys in the park. Some anger. Some humor. Just like all the rest of us.
Photography Thinks
Just very upsetting. You take a nice ride to a beautiful spot and some asshole has written stupid stuff on the message board. Bad enough that we have to deal with the annoying and invasive Eurasian Milfoil, but that someone felt compelled to diss the cops at this location has to give you pause. Probably some libertarian who didn’t have a fishing license. But when virulent wall writing makes it to a little boat drop in Colchester, something be truly amiss,
No harm here, except that it blocks the door to somebody’s upstairs business. Not sitting on the street or obstructing shoppers and eaters. Their presence must still annoy the Czars of the Church St. Market Place, but they cannot have everything. No way to reserve these spaces, but some people return to the same spots so much that the place becomes identified with them.
We went for a birthday walk. Started at the Lone Sailor. Don’t remember Sharon taking my picture at the guy. I really love living here, especially since Sharon likes being here. I just want to keep being relevant, while doing things my legal life and my contempt conviction prevented me from pursuing.
How surprising! A little gorilla theatre in Burlington. It comes after the City has turned up at heat on sidewalk sitters. No sense of humor in the Queen City. The City Father’s, including the Lords of The Marketplace, should be spending a little more time trying to maintain the bond ratings which were downgraded today.
He approached me in the parking lot of the State Store. “Got $.40?”
“What you going to do with $.40?”
“I’ll take…?”
Gave him a $1.00. Took a few shots.
“How did you hurt your head?”
“Me and xxxx moved some furniture.”
“Have too much to drink?”
“No.”
When we came out of the store, having bought our own drinks, he asked me to buy his woman a bottle. I refused. “Why won’t you do me a favor? I got the money.”
My friend George Solomon died. The death notice said suddenly, but I would say he saw it coming. Rushing here to there. Driving like a maniac. Wolfing down meals. Not paying attention to his weight. He wanted to live his life his way, death be damned. Sadly he won’t see his daughter’s nuptials, but he did live to see her become engaged.