Morning Walk

After breakfast I like to take a walk. Helps the digestion in this belly o' mine. Just a neighborhood walk. Out and nearby the schools or down to Capitol Square Mall. On Mabury there were these 3 chicks and the best of them had a red pullover, nice long hair and a nice tush. Yup, nice tush. She was across the street so I spotted that P.Y.T. under no duress and enjoyed what I saw. There was a hinted glance from her end but no matter, that girl was something in beauty full view today. As I looked on with her gone far down the road and my neck and torso at a twist to look back, to the blindside left of me at a lot exit a dark grey Toyota Tacoma KRUCHUNKH! stopped abruptly. Holy hot damn! I almost got hit! Duuude. I really ought to stop getting into accidents/near accidents when museum'ing the fair ones. It's a dangerous thing appreciating women, aye? Last time, when I saw a pretty butterfly and her good friend, I backed up to a parked car behind me HUHTHUD! Damage consisted of a bent license plate, is all. ~Whew~. Again, noticing wahines is a risk.

But a worthy one. Believe it.

You know what it's saying? "I'm a tree, bitches."

I decided, "To Target today" because I wanted to get a few more rounds in with the Undisputed 3 demo made-to-play at their XBOX360 stall. Good game, this. Kicking faces in and all that. With all this writing/songwriting/chick-thinking that's got me plenty (& happily) occupied I just don't have the time to enjoy a videogame as much as I used to. A walk and some gametime is a fine marriage. There are trees all over the neighborhood, wondrous trees of all sorts! I do like them trees. Green, lively, proud even. With all the madness around them in this sometimes fucked-up world a tree stands as is, stable in the doctrine in its knowing that it's there to be a tree. So I high-five 'em when I walk under their leaves and feel their greeny goodness and try to get a rub off their life's undeniable tenet in the hopes that I too will truly
know who I am in this, yes, sometimes fucked-up world.



At the Target lot there was yet another stranded cart. A tiny blue one. Likely, it did not belong to red Target but I came upon the decision to at least roll this bastard cart back to one of red's tall advertised cart collect areas.

Ok, also I wanted to ride it.

Get some speed, hop and zoom, zoom, zoom! Parking lot, I own you!! So I went to pu-- ah shit. It won't budge. Just screech and rust. Again I try to pu-- nah, dude. Ain't gonna happen. Oh fudge, I wanted to Senna this blue baby all over this Capitol Target Grand Prix. Darn. To get it away from where a car might get kinked by it, I placed it on a parking lot island, pressed down firmly into the tan bark. Bye-bye you blue bastard. When she picks you up ask yo momma for some WD-40.

WD-40: De-rustifying complete and utter bastards worldwide since 1953.

There's a comfy chair in Target in a kind of educated green. It rocks too. No, not Walkmen rock, but rock-rock, you know? Back and forth to better lube the calming thought? It's of the fancy degree too. With some sort of sliding gimmick. I sat on it and smooooooth. I liked this chair. Especially with my fatass hunkering all of 300 pounds onto my tiny ankles (imagine Andre the Giant versus Rey Mysterio), my steppers were sore. Ahhh, I rock back and forth. Ahhh, I think of a gir-- dude there's one right there! Yup, there was one, a hail mary away looking at bed/bath items. Nice jeans. I stood up though not long after. As Creepy as sure as hell I know I can be (even though I sincerely mean well, ouch) SITTING ON A FUCKING ROCKING CHAIR AND LOOKING AT A CHICK DOES. NOT. HELP.

~Sigh~

I suck.

Anyways, I went to the toy aisle. Why? Because I like toys. I'll be 102 years young and still like toys. There was a toddler toy of vehicles that transform into dinosaurs. The green one was a T-Rex. Awesome. Revamped Teenage Turtles show Shredder looked shreddery but I can't say I agree with his choice of a platelette chest armor but I am a fan from the 90's. I entered the toy aisle specifically to ogle the 3.75" Marvel figure of Kraven the Hunter. I like Kraven. How come? Because in the original stories his life ended when he was satisfied in having successfully hunted the most dangerous game, Spider-Man, in doing so his life was complete and goodbye, Kraven commits suicide. Whoa. What a way to go. All for $9.99. Cool toy too, he looks totally badass with a face fierce, determined and strapped ready to prey the gangsters of East Side with his feathered spear. Sure, Gang Member B, you got a gat but that lion head vest-wearing motherfucker over there? He's got a frickin' bloody spear. Guess what happened to Gang Member A, homie.

Kinda like this but roles reversed. This totally never happened to me.

On to foot-to-face! Picked Wanderlei and laid down the hurt on Rampage. He got a couple wins over me, swinging powershots with abandon like he entered the Konami Code for unlimited stamina. But I got him too and ended a few fights just stomping my heel down full force onto his jaw. It must have been a way to deal with my sore ankles I guess, Freud. It helped. A short curly haired late 50's woman looking for help passed by and instinctively I pulled out my pink earbuds out of courtesy to hear what's up. She picked a stereo and wanted some help to make sure her decision was wise. With no workers around and I the young cat listening to deafening levels of Placebo, I was the only choice. I was happy to oblige and said I'd certainly try. An employee did eventually help and though she had a Samsung device, she was content with purchasing the iPod-ready RCA stereo. There was a line-in as well so it'll be fine.

There was one more girl. Of course. There always is. In the toy aisle that sits across from electronics. Long-hair dyed a deep, subtle red, orange skirt polka-dotted brown/blue/yellow and with black leggings, a British Racing Green poofy jacket, a cart (of the non-bastard type) and a kid. Um, a kid. "Her nephew?" I had hoped. Probably hers though. Saw her once. Then disappeared. Twice. Then disappeared. Into and out of my life for good. It's always nice to see a girl look good. Even if just once. I thought and sang Oh Darling, looked to my mp3 player but saw no Beatles aside from Revolver (my favorite album of the rock quartet) but did have Don't Let Me Down. Off of Let It Be . . . Naked, it's a darn fine tune that perfectly captures that . . . that . . . well shoot, that Don't Let Me Down. I could explain and describe the primo depths of the mu-blah-blah-blah but just listen. That's all you need. And to those who think me a creep: Listen to what I sing. I might come off weird -- well, because I am weird -- but just listen and you'll feel what I feel and all my innocent intent, all that I'm too scared to say to you. I'm just looking for someone to love, I'm sorry.