It rolls up green to a line of trees along the Mississippi close to where I live. I talked smack on my cell phone with big bro' Chez Jo and wielded the leash with the other hand. This was silly. But I've already explained why I don't think clearly enough to do things logically. Anyway, I walked my dog. He did what dogs do. And then some.
He's a rescued dog. Discovered wandering through southern Ohio- fur matted and muddy. Skinny as all hell. The woman who took him in required some real convincing when it came to letting him leave. She called him Champion. I called him Nando Vincero. The first name is from my favorite fast food place in South Africa- Nando's Chicken. A lot of chicken is eaten in Africa. Who knew?
The second name isn't really a name. It's an Italian verb, masculine, singular. (Vin-chair-oh.) I know it contextually- it's something like (I have) conquered/ overcome. It's a bit much for a 21 lb. cocker spaniel that is constantly being mistaken for a girl dog. (He's got big talent, mind you, but nobody sees that when his coat gets long.) Not his fault. The name, I mean. His owner got carried away listening to the Three Tenors.
I don't know what he's been through, but he's gentle around people and a real pain in the balls around other dogs. Well, okay, BIG dogs. I mean rottweilers and dobermans and great dane's, for fuck's sake. I joke that he's got a prison yard mentality- like he's gonna get in and beat up the biggest one there and then all of the others will think he's crazy and leave him alone. Oy vay. He has no sense.
Sometimes he's lucky and the enemy he's facing down on the poop strewn field of battle is actually not very dominant and will back down, frightened, and run away. More often, though, the big dog feels like a big dog and wants to fight. My pooch- cute and stupid- will not back down one inch. This is why I have to keep him on a leash at a dog park where all the other dogs run free. This is also why I have to circle around between him and big, barking dogs who want to take a chunk out of his hide for daring to challenge them. I circle. They circle. One day, one of these big dogs is gonna take a chunk out of my hide just for being in the way. Like I said, I don't really think clearly enough these days to do things logically. (Now who's cute and stupid?)
Never mind all that. What I really wanted to tell you about was the fact that I didn't go straight home after the visit to the park. Instead, I drove up and down Magazine Street, back and forth. And then I headed over to St. Charles to do the same thing. Looking both ways before flipping a U-ey across the streetcar tracks. And yeah, it was repetitive. But it was pretty. People with more energy than I have were out running in the neutral ground. The oak trees took up both sides of the street. Old houses never looked better. The tiniest bit of cool was in the air and the light faded like my favorite perfume.
And that's not really what I was into. I kept driving because ChezJoel mentioned he'd heard "Wonder Boy" on some university radio station recently. Because that reminded me that I love me some Tenacious D. I was driving because I wasn't done listening to the entire damn disc. That and I wasn't done with the soothing illusion that I was getting somewhere. Even though I'm tired. Even though I was just driving back and forth.
I write pretty stuff sometimes. What I like about Kyle and Jack is that they do, too, and then they turn all of that on its head and they're just foul. Foul and funny. I'm not even gonna say which tracks had me laughing out loud.
You never know who's reading this shit.