Little City Story

The tide is turning toward the end of the week. I can feel it today, finally. This is one of those weeks when I've been imagining that every day is further along in the week than it really is.
I took a walk downtown in the early evening light, still a little warm, but it was noisy and disconcerting downtown. Just some negativity in the air that I can't quite explain. Trash, noise, and air pollution, I guess. I stepped over what looked like a discarded piece of cherry pie, not to mention lots of other trash scattered and pressed into the sidewalks. The brilliant sunlight that had filled the day with cheeriness was disappearing behind the hills, so the light was gray and dull by the time we got downtown. A homeless guy was wandering around under the bridge and drinking from a bottle and spitting loudly, watching us. Those are all signs one is living in a city, but it's not always that way here. Sometimes the little city is happy and cheerful. The brewery is still closed, and the old, large plants are withering and wilting in its front windows. The sign still says, after months of being closed, that it will reopen soon. I hadn't seen Black Leather Jacket Guy in quite some time, but there he was, standing around as usual. I thought about him yesterday, noting I hadn't seen him walk past my office window in awhile, and wondered if something happened to him.
I've been listening to my new Weedhawks CD all week. It's very funny and good. One of the best songs is the first one on the CD, "All The Old Hippies Are Dropping Like Flies," with continuous and rhyming references to pony-tailed Boone's-Farm-Drinking Beatles- and Grateful Dead-listening retiring folks.
At the end of the week I will go to the auction for which I donated my "kitchen mandala" painting. I am anxious to see if anyone will bid on it. It will be competing with more naturific scenes than my stilted mandala, and there will be quilts, clothing, floral arrangements, bed and breakfast coupons, wooden figurines, random drawings and paintings, and a plethora of other unnecessary items to buy. Some people say it's too stuffy of an event, with people dressing up and eating their fancy cheesecake and drinking their complimentary wine and hobnobbing with the upper crust. It doesn't have to be that way if you don't think of it that way. You make it what you want it to be.
I love my blog. I don't get any weird stares for saying exactly what's on my mind, or awkward silences after I say something that no one knows how to, or wants to, respond to.