Exhibitionists and Voyeurs

It’s gettin’ weird. I have to practice my best dance steps to avoid all the rolling heads these days.

Aaaand that’s all I’m sayin’ about that.

Today I must strap the halogens on the bike. I must say I’m looking forward to riding in the dark again, even though the rain seems to have started in earnest. The rain itself doesn’t bother me at all, but I’m not really that jazzed about riding through minefields of slippery fallen leaves. Or over wet manhole covers.

Those hazards aside, the most common threat is running afoul of the local ninja bikers who think it’s perfectly cool to ride without lights in dark clothing. This behavior is not cool. It is the antithesis of coolness, actually. It is as cool as, say, bungee jumping with razor wire instead of bunjee cord, but really ONLY as cool as that. That’s pretty much as cool as that gets, which is to say: NOT COOL. And the NOT COOLNESS is exponentially exacerbated when I run into your invisible ass on the trail, or have to swerve around your rapidly cooling (but NOT COOL) body lying in the street because somebody else in a much larger, heavier, speedier vehicle found your hindquarters equally indiscernible. I swear to you, I wouldn’t blame a motorist or anyone else for going Sam Jackson on one of these jerkweeds even as he/she lay oozing into the gutter.

“Oh EXCUSE me! Did I just run all over your right to treat the street like a playground? WHAT? What the fuck does “pluhbluh” mean, asshole? Is “pluhbluh” your retort to my query concerning my inadvertent trampling of your arrogant assumption that OUR STREET is actually YOUR STREET, motherfucker? Is THAT what “Pluhbluh” means? Because if THAT is what you mean to infer I must tell you that I have a further counter-argument that ordinarily would entail the placement of my SHOE on your got-damn HEAD, except your head is somewhat the WORSE FOR WEAR right now, ISN’T IT, BITCH?”

I’m mean. It’s been a week.

From the “Ewww, this is SO not where I intended to be” files: I was looking around for a new music video to put on my page a couple of nights ago and ran across an old favorite by Filter called “Take a Picture”. While watching it and mulling it’s potential I saw also listed another song they did called “Hey Man Nice Shot”. That got me thinking, I wonder if they really had Kurt Kobain in mind when that song was written?, and so off to Wikipedia I mouse to dig the skinny. Well, it turns out no, they apparently didn’t. Instead they were inspired by a politician named Budd Dwyer, who’s claim to fame is that he ate a very large handgun during a televised press conference in 1987. I was sufficiently intrigued by this sordid story to follow another link or two and…there I was watching the footage of his suicide.

I’m not a ghoul, but I found this fascinating on two levels. Here we have a man who first praised his family members for their support of him and then scrambled his brain in public and with cameras rolling so that the chances were very good that they’d get to witness it at some point even if they weren’t all watching it as it happened. What sort of ego allows for that logic? And then there’s the footage itself. Why does it exist? Why did I not see sudden black as the camera was either shut off or hitting the floor, the cameraman having discarded it to plead with the would-be suicide in the name of decency? But no, what I got instead was the whole red enchilada, and immediately afterward a zoom-in close-up of the dead man’s face, eyes open in that disinterested way the dead have. That was perhaps the worst thing about it, that the cameraman either valued his paycheck more than another life, or was thrilled to be there to witness the carnage. And then here I am watching it 21 years later, revolted, appalled, and still watching. Jesus, I felt ashamed of myself.

So I made myself feel better by firing up my QUAKE III game and splattering some enemy combatants. I felt curiously cleansed.

Later this afternoon my plan is to go walking with a camera. The colors this season are stunning, and I don’t know if it’s because they truly are more spectacular this year or if it’s just that we’ve made up our minds to move and suddenly I want to record everything I see to take with us. Like I feel guilty for not taking snapshots this entire time we’ve been here. Actually, I do feel guilty. I have a Flickr account that has almost nothing in it. Beats me why we have two cameras, let alone one. We were going to take a camera with us to Dallas, but no, we didn’t. I have friends on MySpasm that have hundreds of pictures in their profile, and I have nearly none. It’s like having a life but not being able to prove it. That’s asinine, but there it is.

Nap-time.

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