The Night After Steve's Funeral

The night sky was an inkwell and someone spilled glitter into it. The glassy lake, an obsidian slab, was untouched by breeze. An occasional shooting star raced across the sky, its celestial path mirrored on the lake's surface. And there I was, just floating in the center of a lake that seemed as if it could have been the edge of the world: no shoreline to be seen. I'd lost sight of it just after dusk; that time when everything appears to be coated in dust, as if a building had been imploded nearby.

I was the nucleus; the full moon slowly rotated around me. The guttural croaks of the freshwater drum gradually subsided as the night grew long. I had no sense of time, lost in an environment captured as a Polaroid snapshot, a scene that would fade and turn to a blurry, sepia-toned memory as time passed.

The distorted voices of campers, once carried over the water, faded and ceased altogether, my sign that I was truly alone, secluded and sheltered from the world. Then - finally THEN - I fell into, at last, my element. I disappeared into the comfort and familiarity of nature, wholly enveloped in the only form of peace I know: the solitary method for me to achieve a quiet mind.

In this rarely-visited alternate universe, I was able to forget the disturbing form of grief I had endured that day. I disconnected my feelings of confusion and, for the first time in a long time, felt absolutely nothing. Relaxation (or was it mental exhaustion?) took over and I began to fall asleep, floating flat on my back in the onyx water.

It expended a great amount of willpower to pull myself out of the trance. Soon, someone would be looking for me. Soon, I was going to have to get back to the dock. Going back meant driving back home in a few hours and returning to the life I'd grown to hate: city life. As I begrudgingly swam back, I kept looking to the east, silently cursing the sky's ever-growing light blue hue.



(i know someone said they were waiting on my narcissistic entries about my sordid sex life. i haven't forgotten, but i lost inspiration for awhile. being busy is kind of a crappy excuse, but i will do my best to sit down and write them. they're just going to be small memories; not the whole horrible affair, so maybe it won't be too painful to read.)

62 Chapters of Dick

Because I'm bored and in the mood to reminisce, I'm thinking about doing a short flash of memories in 62 installments. Not the full stories, just a blurb or two. More for myself than anything else. Once I open the gate, the rest of the memories come flooding back - usually - and I sure miss my life. There are so many things I wish I could remember, but my brain's fried. I think that, while my two readers will be either disgusted, entertained, or just feel sorry for me, I will be able to regain parts of myself.

I feel as if I'm mellowing, slowing down, or something. I want to relive what I consider to be conquests. So...anyway...more of that later. You've been warned.
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Redneck in the Suburbs

The weather out in the country the last few years has really taken its toll on cattle production, so I thought I'd sell the farm and move into the city. Well, the suburbs, I guess. It wasn't anything I wanted to do, but I was able to get a job at Tractor Supply and Feed and it seemed like it would all work out okay. I quickly learned that things work a bit differently here. I've been fighting with my homeowner's association since Day One, pretty much.

I had a lot of things I wanted to put in outdoor storage. Seems that whatever it is has to be shorter than the fence height. And you had to have a permit. So I got one. No problem, I thought. I had to get the covered storage back there anyway, so I pulled down the 6 foot fence with my truck. The cops were upset that I blocked up the street for a few minutes getting it dragged out. I showed them the permit, though, and they left. After that misunderstanding, I went ahead and got the truck in the backyard. It didn't take me long to put up the new 10-foot, 5-strand barbed wire fence, so I moved all my stuff into storage.

I got a nasty letter stating that a barbed wire fence is not compliant and that it's a safety hazard. Apparently a 1979 Ford doesn't constitute a "storage shed," either. I don't know what's wrong with these people, because they began complaining about EPA regulations and contamination, so the truck had to go. And my new fence.

I decided to spiffy up the front yard with some landscaping and plants. I heard somewhere that native plantings are easier on the environment and cut down on water consumption. Since a lack of water was what caused me to move out here in the first place, it sounded like a great idea. I also read about raised flowerbeds and thought it would look nice. I found a big plastic rectangular shell and figured I could use that, and edge it with rocks or something. Next thing I know, I got another strongly-worded letter saying that an old truck bed liner is not an approved landscaping material, that the weeds I'd been growing in the aforementioned bed liner were considered an eyesore, and that crushed concrete is considered commercial waste and, therefore, not allowed in landscaping. I tried to reason with them and tell them that they weren't "weeds," that they were native wildflowers and scrub brush, but they threatened to fine me if I didn't get rid of it. So that had to go.

Then they complained about the dead patch of grass where the bed liner had been. It was a mandate that I re-sod that area. I guess you just can't make these people happy around here.

I guess the dirt and sod I picked up had seeds of some sort in it, because then I ended up with real weeds popping up all over the place. Since the grass was dying anyway (yes, due to lack of rain), I let them grow. They were green and had pretty yellow flowers. I was outside admiring the pop of color when the HOA monitor stopped by and told me I had to remove them. Given they were so worried about chemical contamination and whatnot, I decided the best way was to just cover them up, so I dragged an old rug outside and put it on top of my pretty yellow flowers. I mean, hell, all the grass was dying at that point. A few days should have done it, but I came home the next day to a warning notice on my door telling me that household furnishing are not allowed in the front yard. Once again, I had to abandon my foolproof plan. I rolled the rug up and put it out by my trashcan.

I got another notice on the door stating that heavy trash is only once a month, and the rug had to be removed until three weeks later. What the hell is wrong with these people?

Since I had to remove my storage idea from the backyard, I decided maybe I needed an addition to my garage. Again, I had to have a permit, so I got one. I cut out part of the wall to my garage (inside my backyard, behind my new fucking fence), removed the fence again, and put the new prefab addition on. I put the fence back. Next thing I know, I've got a committee of four representatives paying me a visit, telling me that an old Airstream trailer is not an approved addition, regardless of the fact that you can't see it over the fence, and housing additions don't need to be below the fence line. I was also told that, no, just putting roof matching the house on top of the Airstream wasn't acceptable. Seriously? How many hoops does this neighborhood want me to jump through?!

I had to take down the fence again, remove my Airstream, put the fence back up (at this point, it was rather rickety and I had to keep it up by using baling wire and secure it to the nearby tree), and was given 2 weeks notice to restore the hole in the side of my garage. And was ticketed for my repeated fence offenses, specifically in regards to the baling wire. For fuck's sake!

And then again with the weeds. I finally said "fuck it," and decided to go back to basics. It was a clear day with no wind, so I pulled out my drip torch and got a buddy to stand by with the hose, just in case. The burn was going as planned, and I couldn't wait to see all the new growth pop up within the next few weeks, but before I could complete it, the damned fire department showed up and I got a rather large ticket. Apparently even a controlled burn isn't allowed. What the hell? People do it all the time to eradicate weeds and invasive plants! At least I didn't use diesel fuel! There is just no understanding of plant succession around here, I guess. I'm fighting that ticket...

The neighbors around here are a little frail, I guess. They're not used to being outside like I am. Every time I see them, they're eyes are all squinted into a scowl, like the light's too bright. They must be a little blinded, too, because they never wave back. They should get out more so the sun doesn't mess with them so much.

Christmas was coming up, so I was excited to decorate. That's what I needed, was a little Christmas cheer, after being messed with all year. I put up the lights around the gutters but thought the yard needed a little something extra. I put out my old International Harvester tractor, put a Santa in the seat, and lit it all up. With the new year I got busy, so I put away Old Saint Nick and left for a week to go hunting. When I got back, my door was plastered with notices about the tractor. I called City Hall and told them that I'd been out of town and I'd get to it that weekend. Since I'd been given 48 hours notice 4 days ago, I received a few tickets in the mail. This was really beginning to piss me off.

I guess I managed to use up all the ink in the HOA's pens, because they left me alone for awhile. A couple of months later I was told that the Christmas lights had to come down! Imagine that! I thought the white lights made it sort of cheery, like the other kinds of landscape lights the neighbors used. Seems it's perfectly okay for some people to have colored lights in their flowerbeds, but I can't have white lights around my roofline. So I unplugged them just to make everyone happy.  But I got another notice on the door a few weeks later, saying that the holiday season was over months ago, and the lights were against code. WHAT THE HELL? I'm just going to have to get back up on a ladder, narrowly escaping death, all over again in three months! Well, that's just not going to happen.

Fuck all this stupid shit. I'm moving back to the country, even if I have to live in that damned Airstream!


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