Friday, March 30, 2018

Joining the other Humans

It's like there's fee for joining up - the opposite of a signing bonus.

Currently, still, I live in the country.  Alone/  Sort of alone.   But here in the country, there are now more mustangs (Fords), and man they must stang! And there are young boarders on their skate boards.  And quiet streets full of emptiness like death.   Retirees plugging in at the RV park.  Or parking at the fire plug.
No one joins me.  But it's not the country anymore.  Not for them anyway.

My old house was moved out here, to the middle of Egypt, in 1973 - the year I crossed the Mason and Dixon line for good - and ill.
And then slowly, but then with greater and greater speed and thickness,  the masses - replete with jobs and children in prisons made by the Independent School District and home entertainment centers - cluster nearby, talking about me just up the Nile from them.  And wishing they could live in my house, on my few acres;  to which all the deer and the antelope and the rattlers and opossums and rats and mice and bugs and smaller bugs and wasps ....  have flocked.     Since the new houses are 6 per acre, you see.  Or 7 for luck.   It's so quiet in those neighborhoods!

I mostly avoid them.  When I don't, it's usually okay.  Which has led me to think -   "I shall leave Egypt forever and join folks in the old home town," which has grown into a pulsing deathstar of booming modern hubub.   (That's Austin, TX to you)

So, yeah, there's a fee.   $Half a Million.  Inexorably.     I am to be a neighbor among neighbors.  And I will be well-liked by one or two.  And my favorite city haunts will be increasingly haunted by me, on foot even.   And my grandsons will visit, on holidays.  And my soul will not extinguish, and I will sometimes not be sad.

Hurry!  Supplies are going fast!

Hum us a few bars

It's spelled HUMMUS,  Or HOUMOUS.  I prefer the former.   People actually eat chick pea.  They do not drink it.  But this comes as no slurprise.   Hommus (erectus).   The stuff smells somehow like armpit.   And it's not the tahini.   As a matter of FYI, humming is perhaps the most difficult human sound to record.   It's like mumbling.  Speak up dammit!

Which brings up:  What is a human sound?   Really does not matter.   I was full of piss and vinegar earlier.   Then I emptied.   It was transient, momentary.  A burst of Spring.  Because it is actually Spring today.  So I looked up how to spell hummus AND Spring.  Its full name is Springtime, for obvious reasons.  Spring is when you wish you had your lawn mower.  If you have a lawn.  And especially if you have a HOA.

It is my plan to move, for my waning years, into the city, where there are an increasing number of armpits.   I will mooove to a dairy barn and run the airconditioner plum out of its mind.  To its utter limit.
The new house is so cool and hip, OMG.  Its only obvious problems:   No windows in the bathrooms. The shower is set up so when you turn it on, you get wet.   (Seems like the idea... but think about it.)
And, oh yeah, it costs 5 years' pay.   And it's always raining.

Sulphur.

Oh, and the septic tank is never full and therefore fails inspection.
You can expect it.
I always (used to) say, if you expect to rate, you gotta expectorate.
But it's false, as the day is longer, in Springtime.  I sprang forward.  Darkness waits.