That otherwise nondescript building with its fascinating pattern of rust & crumble, shadowplay & color, passed & ignored by thousands daily, perhaps turns out to have been situated as such because there was no other place for it. Simple chance. & weathering? Of itself, how commonplace.
Less fascinating than the serendipitous outcome of artistic desires to be sure, but whatever piques our fancy, mundane or exhilarating, will nonetheless have a story to tell.
So, the Wheelie Bus. What teenage vandal stuck this here?
But grown-ups -- real ones, of course, for the adult mind that dwells on such frivolities has thrown pragmatism away to embrace an adolescent atavism that keeps one from very important blah blah blah I'm tired of this crap -- too feel those emo pangs that always come unannounced.
Young or old, it matters not. Was he, or she, spurned, suffering a rapid oxidation until extinguished? It will pass, someone is bound by law to tell you. Ignore them. Was it unrequited? Was it an impossibility due to distance -- or to closeness which I imagine would be the most paralyzing -- was it done in jest, friends marking one of their own out for a mocking approved only for those within the closed group? Or was it a small child not yet burned by this beautiful corrosive, giving little or no thought to choosing a heart, lifting it off a sheet of yellow companion stars & rainbows & sticking it to surface in some makeshift match game, red like red?
Yeah, I think I prefer that last one.
13 comments:
This post makes me feel sad. :(
((Hugs))
Laura
Perhaps it was someone who supports emergency exit instruction very much.
Home-schooling those exits only gets them so far.
~
But I love emergency exit instruction arrows. Thanks for showing my wheelie bus ass the door. If there was some sort of, I don't know, exigency, and I needed to, y'know, get off this bus in a hurried but controlled manner, which way should I then proceed?
Alternately, are you sure there weren't some fliers or other form of pictographic pamphlet (a photo essay, say!) in a plexiglas receptacle next to the sign which said heart-sign sticker managed to find, take, and read, which person found helpful, useful, and, ultimately, to their liking?
Or, Like This—in the parlance of our time.
We know for certain it wasn't Red Adair.
laura, someone's gotta counter all the happy hippie dippie OccupyInsertTownHeres.
if, as someone who deals with the products of public & private schools on a daily basis, the Tao of Duh is inculcated everywhere.
jim, I'm glad you mentioned pamphleteering, as this gives me an opportunity to preach to all 7 of you regulars about my grand disappointment in the ever-growing lack of ultra-fundie tracts on the bus. Not even the spare Jack Chick booklet has found a urine-soaked home.
Get with it, Clevelandia.
demeur, did you just call John Wayne a homersexual?
Jack Chick, oy.
Always more fish in the sea.
I love this. That is all.
jim, I wish I could find the one with dinosaurs.
BB, I'm ignoring you.
thatgirl, merci. That is all.
For some reason that "emergency exit instruction" reminded me of a men's room graffiti. Those white sheets of tissue paper that you put over the toilet seat -- on the container it says "first pull up, then pull down."
Right above that, somebody wrote "instructions for masturbating."
I wonder if they still make those little Battleship-style paper floaters to stick in urinals.
The questions you raise are indeed ones for idle minds to ponder. When The Great Book finally explaining everything is written, this post should be a lead in to one of its chapters. ;)
I hope you're not expecting me to write it, would really cut into my slack time.
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