kingtycoon | (no subject)

It seems that the locating & documenting of Secret Areas will become a part of our praxis. An essential component of our doings, comings & goings.

The idea of Secret Areas is very compelling to me - because of the daring audaciousness that you have to have in the first place in order to have Mario punch trough those bricks to discover the warp zone. And because of the interesting realities that lie underneath everything commonplace. The recognizable & complicated interrelations of people & their functions.

In the back lot of the graveyard, behind the mausoleum there's a mountain of fill dirt and a forested area with a cinder road that skirts behind the public housing. The lack of litter lets you know that no one comes through, it's a secret area. There are a bunch of broken headstones & a stream & a forest where it seems like it always must be autumn.

There are no birds in this place, but the bugs leap up like dust from the leaf litter which is inches thick. In the distance there's a lonely solitary tower, a beacon that lies down on Euclid, and I think Noble - a landmark of East Cleveland. The forest isn't big and it stands between two cemeteries. No birds sing there. There are just the bugs that jump like clouds at footfalls on the year-upon-year of fallen leaves. Spooky & cursed is a comfortable thing to decide about a place.

We make it out of the big-nice cemetery accros from the free clinic. She tries telling tales about the Wendigo but is still learning storytelling. Asked for a story I have none, begging off saying I need something to drink first, cursed woods are thirsty business. She remembers a story about an evil killer doll and tells me while we wait on a bus to take us up the hill & home. I wonder if the doll kills the only witness how is the story known? I hate that in horror stories, in the urban legendry of children. Well if they're all dead then how does anyone know this? The scariest real story is: "They went to the forest and then some of their hands were found later."

It's springtime now I guess and there are indigents. I had to yell at a man on the bus today about being terrible and he got thrown off after everyone was yelling at him. We all agreed that it's improper to be rambunctiously drunk & affected & chummy with everyone when it is 7 o'clock. The old lady next to me insisted that he was putting on an act of being a madman - I was shocked and can't still determine whether she is callous or savvy. He seemed pretty messed up and useless to me, but if it's an act, well wouldn't you have to be crazy to act that way? I said: "Fuck You." To him and then he did stop talking. I'm always happy to be able to sincerely say "Fuck You." To a person so I'm cheered now. Still not a great day on the transit.

At the cemetery gates a man came at us looking for money - he had that substance-abuse-tooth - you know where there's that one tooth that's all yellow and has some relationship to the substances you abuse? I don't get it, I mean, I don't even know if it's a true thing, but I've been around and seen fellas with that fucked up tooth and they were really into smoking rock. This guy came at us all talking to me about how he'd prayed at church all morning and all I could think was - "you ain't even know how to pick your marks." Just the assumption that I'd regard that as laudable kind of pisses me off. I hate the assumption of moral correctness that people ascribe to churches, it's preposterous.

I think I wore red today for some politics reason - I can't remember what. I am pleased by how shiny my head is. I think I shined my head today for some politics reason too.