[Another mystery draft post from last year. I did eventually give the bus stop lady my spare suitcase. She was very happy with it and camouflaged it in a trash bag. Smart.]

I walked around to accomplish some work errands in the city. It was good to get out, but I was a little apprehensive about getting lost. I’m still getting comfortable with the city, and while I have come a long way, I’m not sure I should ever really relax out there. It’s a weird place.

I have loved Baltimore for a very long time, with no irony. It has a humanity that shines through with stark beauty; it has palpable sadness and history, and at the same time it smells terrible. Sometimes I think the stench is the only thing standing between Baltimore and greatness.

As always, I am drawn to broken things that could be wonderful. If I were mayor of Baltimore, my slogan would be Still Salvagable!

On my tours, I see a regular set of junkies and other folks who are navigating homelessness. I don’t like any of the available words, so I think of them as vagabonds. It’s still not correct–maybe stationary vagabonds? Naw, outdoor neighbors is my final selection.

There’s a woman who lives in the bus shelter. She sweeps and keeps her things tidy and she talks to a tidy invisible friend most mornings. I think about her every day and still have not arrived at anything to do or say that would be definitely helpful. I don’t want to frighten her or interfere with the delicate balance of her tiny outdoor life. I considered giving her a rolling suitcase, but then that would make it easier for other people to steal everything she keeps so carefully tucked away.

There is a man who sings as loudly as he can when he walks by the church. His voice is powerful and lovely and it’s impossible to guess if it’s an offering, a protest or a habit of forgotten origin.

One man bowed to me as I passed, I smiled under my mask and said, “Good Morning,” it’s possible he was actually having a good morning, even now. He called after me to ask my name but I walked on. I am not polite to men on the street as a rule, and I am only willing to break that rule once per man. “Freak!” he continued.

Back at home, yersis said she feels as if she clones things. I said that I wished I could clone my earring. I was feeling genuinely bummed out that I lost one during the day, probably to masking and unmasking during my walks. As I reached up to remove the sole earring, I discovered that the second earring was hooked in with it.

Had it been there all day? Am I a freak? Am I getting my wishes? Making more clones?


Amazon is on the case of the missing kindle book. I wonder if I violated some book speed limit? Was there a porn complaint? Definitely not any porn in there, and definitely not too speedy. I’ll be sending out some free print copies for spooky season, so let me know if ya want one!!

Breeder and sportsman (1882)

Things that cannot be pulled, LLC

I’m actually going to form an LLC any minute now. What? Yes!! A tiny publishing company will be just the ticket to give me tiny publishing clout for my tiny publishing plans. Do you enjoy backing tiny ideas? Just a little bit?


One Reply to “Cloned Freaks”

Waddaya think?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: