New Neighbors...
A nearby neighbor owns the house at the end of the road and rents it out. New folks down there. I used to feel like I should get to know the neighbors. The first renters down there had some mail put in my box on accident one time. I went down there with the mail, knocked on the door and a large sullen teenager answered. I said, "Hi, I'm Carl here is you mail." He took it and shut the door. The exchange happened faster than I could write about it.
Now there are new people down there. I saw the old leave with a trailer full of their crap. I know the new by their cars. A wheezing, sputtering Dodge Neon, when it dies, the funeral will be more that it is worth. A big late model blue Ram truck, creeping slow up and down the road. Then there is rusty truck, an old skinny guy with a pony tail is the pilot.
Rusty truck likes to wave. I was in the porch swing with some study notes. I looked up at his passing and he sticks his arm out the window, fully flexed at the shoulder full 180 degree of the glenohumorel joint motion available and externally rotated with the finders extended and waving. My clinical skills kick in, no rotator cuff problems for this guy. He must have good manuel muscle strength or a lot of friends because he has what looks to be nine rusty appliances piled and roped into the bend of his old truck. I wave back and he passes on.
Now this huge pile of metal, dumped around his new digs is causing me a problem. It has changed the sonic landscape. I can tell during my night screaming episodes. The night screams are not noticed, I don't think, by the neighbors. Lots of night noises here, buffalo snort, the local jack ass brays, coyotes howl, owls hoot and cows who suddently notice that their buddies have left them bawl in surprise. I night scream, the sounds from deep in my throat being whoosed out by large inhaled air volumes softened by their impact on trees, bushes, and soft dirt crawdad mounds. Now there is this pile of junk down there and as I scream I hear the sutele changes to the sound as it hits the metal and bounces sharp and shiny back to me instead of being soaked up by the soft natural things like jackasses asses and buffalo foreheads. Believe me, I can tell the difference. Experience is everything in night screaming. Got to knowwhat you are doing or the effort is wasted.
Place your bets here, that pile of junk will be there when rusty truck is gone. And I'll still be night screaming.
Now there are new people down there. I saw the old leave with a trailer full of their crap. I know the new by their cars. A wheezing, sputtering Dodge Neon, when it dies, the funeral will be more that it is worth. A big late model blue Ram truck, creeping slow up and down the road. Then there is rusty truck, an old skinny guy with a pony tail is the pilot.
Rusty truck likes to wave. I was in the porch swing with some study notes. I looked up at his passing and he sticks his arm out the window, fully flexed at the shoulder full 180 degree of the glenohumorel joint motion available and externally rotated with the finders extended and waving. My clinical skills kick in, no rotator cuff problems for this guy. He must have good manuel muscle strength or a lot of friends because he has what looks to be nine rusty appliances piled and roped into the bend of his old truck. I wave back and he passes on.
Now this huge pile of metal, dumped around his new digs is causing me a problem. It has changed the sonic landscape. I can tell during my night screaming episodes. The night screams are not noticed, I don't think, by the neighbors. Lots of night noises here, buffalo snort, the local jack ass brays, coyotes howl, owls hoot and cows who suddently notice that their buddies have left them bawl in surprise. I night scream, the sounds from deep in my throat being whoosed out by large inhaled air volumes softened by their impact on trees, bushes, and soft dirt crawdad mounds. Now there is this pile of junk down there and as I scream I hear the sutele changes to the sound as it hits the metal and bounces sharp and shiny back to me instead of being soaked up by the soft natural things like jackasses asses and buffalo foreheads. Believe me, I can tell the difference. Experience is everything in night screaming. Got to knowwhat you are doing or the effort is wasted.
Place your bets here, that pile of junk will be there when rusty truck is gone. And I'll still be night screaming.
posted by Carl at 5:30 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home