the childless wanderers meander down morning sidewalks in the impossibly polished city. a hint of urban renewal hangs in the air on this end of fairfax, once the jewish district, as in all cities a tumble down low rent district inhabited by hipsters looking to strike gold where only bronze has been lain underfoot by the gods. an unbelievably young and beautiful girl walks by at a glacier's pace, her arm providing support for an elderly man, a cane providing support on the opposite side of his body. i am almost moved to tears by this touching display, trembling beauty, a sharp contrast in generations that I somehow feel directly in the middle of, figuratively and in reality. the girl wears the uniform of the modern day urban upstart, complete with colors erratically splotched about that are only found in nature deep within tropical jungles. the garb and her sexually able figure suggest one-night stands, mixed drinks, and dj'ed 80s-themed dance parties. a vivacious urban flower saddled with a slow and staggering moth. i cannot help but to smile once they stumble past, this sweetheart of life's rodeo doing for her grandfather what he must've done for his grandmother back in poland or wherever. and i notice her legs and ass and how they imply "fuck me now." my mind immediately recognizes the contradiction and recoils.
(bollocks. these women walk around in floral aromas and colors evoking the sexuality of life and pollenation. one of my favorite creatures of the wild is the hummingbird: sprightly, non-earthbound, territorial, ritualistically aggressive in mating. in some skewed way the hummingbird is nature's symbol of unbridles sexuality, a phallic beak that penetrates every soft and yielding flower to spread life. i'll be the hummingbird, you be the flower, let us make life, take life, create life, and spread life.)
an elderly vagrant pushes her metal cart south down fairfax. probably a leftover from doing movie extra work or daytime television. hell, for all i know she was one of Johnny Mathis' backup singers in her halcyon days. being a bit scruffed-up looking myself, maybe with a hint of urban Buddhadom, she seems comfortable seeking my help. Henry Miller said if you are ever in a pinch go to the poor for help because the wealthy will not even look in your direction. this may be the impulse she acts upon, especially since her facade suggests many a year pushing her metal cart along cracked streets, and she has adapted the faculties necessary for survival. i have no change, but i do have the feeling we are of the same order: the seeker; unfortunately no one got to her in her youth and convinced her to flee to the mountains or desert and she's spent most of her life sleeping on pavement with flourescence burning her cerebrum all through the night, every night. i find a dollar, hand it to her, she says in response "god bless." "god bless." a favorite phrase of mine, a universal code of appreciation, one not an atheist or agnostic could dare to take away because even the daringest nonbeliever knows it is the most touching sign of thanks and goodwill known to man.
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