A dream I had a few months ago:
My pet mouse Floger was missing. I loved Floger and had to find him. I went to an office park near an industrial area to look for him. I walked on the cement path past a low ochre building with brick red trim. It had an unadorned glass door, the kind with no decoration and only a horizontal metal bar in the center to push or pull the door open. The glass was tinted so you couldnít see inside, as if the building was wearing dark glasses. There was no sign and no other windows. I moved past the large palm trees that rose up from the lawn on either side of the walkway looking for Floger. I didnít see him.
Next I walked around the side of the building and thought Iíd check out the abandoned hospital/Parking Garage. It wasnít a hospital, and it wasnít a garage, but some dreamtime hybrid. The structure was unfinished in places, like all the buildings you see outside of Bangkok. Structures that someone started to build and then left abandoned when they ran out of money. Bare girders and tufts of rebar sticking out against the sky.
Inside the structure a couple of friends were with me looking for Floger. We passed a nurses station, and came to an open section of wall, near parking spaces. We heard noise below and looked over the edge to see some punks out on a roof deck. Feeling sure that they had my mouse, we ran past the elevators and into the stairwell, trying to be quiet so we could sneak up on them in case they wanted to get away. As we burst out onto the roof deck the punks were milling around with large pipes in their hands. There were a few animals here and there, large rats, possums, other rodent like creatures, but no Floger. Oddly the tuff punks looked dangerous but were largely unconcerned with us, and didnít pay much attention when we left.
We went down to the fist floor again, toward the back of the building where the ground surface was unfinished. The surrounding area here was more industrial with body shops and machinery parked in vacant lots and empty warehouses. There were rolled up carpets, old crushed cardboard boxes, and bits of debris strewn around the parking lot. Puddles full of muddy water. I looked around for Floger but didnít see him anywhere. I would see a tail, lift a box, and find a dead rat, went under the overhang of the building, saw a bit of fur, and found another dead rat. Floger was nowhere. I couldnít find him, I knew I had to stop looking and go home
A year later I came back to the office park. I hadnít given up hope and I just thought Iíd walk by and see if Floger was around. I saw a flash out of the corner of my eye at the base of one of the palms. It was Floger! He was older, slower, but he still knew who I was, and still knew his tricks. I put my hand down and he wriggled up to my shoulder where I cradled him with joy.
<*toshok*> you and peter stopped blogging
/m toshok i keep meaning to
/m toshok what should I blog about?
<*toshok*> about how hot i am, and all girls should call 415-509-4335
well ladies, now is your chance. enjoy.
They live on 15th just off Mission, on the sidewalk across the street from an auto body shop. Sometimes four or five of them. Mostly men, but there's a woman or two now and then. I think all of them are black, but who knows what color a person's skin is when he's huddled under a blanket and you can't even see the tip of his shoe. They build a little camp out of shopping carts, parts of cardboard boxes, blankets, and each other. Once in a while the police come by and tell them they can't park there anymore, but usually they're there, blocking the sidewalk, puttering, snoozing, living rain or shine. I see them every morning on my way to the bus. Today one guy was sitting up with his legs under a blanket leaning against the wall of the lithograph shop while his friend, a woman, stuck a syringe into his arm and pushed the plunger.