43 McPherson

My former home, the love of my life, is being rehabbed. It sold in 1992 and I landed on Don't Cry for Me, Juniata!
I drove down the wide street yesterday and met the contractors working on the house who offered a tour. It made me so happy to be back inside the mansion that I had loved so much. A rent free house for 13 years allowed me to travel extensively and reside in SF/Fairfax part time.

This is the Time. This is the Record of the Time.

Morning over Grand Center. Photo by Steven Louis Brawley

The Power structure. Photo by Matthew Smith - AKA Brick Dog. 2015

Antique Brass Handrail

TinkerBelle at the Paddy's Day party

1920s Iridescent Stretch Glass

Obsession number #153.

I was a Cook for The Black Panthers Party Free Breakfast Program

1972-73. My first year of college. I resided in Soulard on Geyer with three friends/roommates.
I'd been volunteering for four years. I coordinated a food co-op when I was 19 in Midtown on Folsom. Prior to that I was volunteering at KDNA radio on Olive.
St Stephen's CHurch in the Darst-Peabody-Webbe Housing Project housed the BPPs program.
The connected school had a cafeteria. I was a cook for many months.
The mission of the program was to provide school age (and younger) children with hot meals prior to school.
Tired looking mothers would arrive with their children at 7 am.
I cooked scrambled eggs. Oats. Pancakes. I served the food.
I had three objections.
1: I had been recruited to volunteer by a woman who was a student at WU. She would pick me up in her Saab since I didn't own a car.
I was embarrassed to exit her car in D-P-W.
2: It was obvious the mothers were also hungry. They stared at the food. When I mentioned this to the Saab woman she told me they weren't allowed to have any food. I regret not arguing this point.
3: The Saab woman would read The BPP paper out loud to the mothers. I cringed in embarrassment when I realized she assumed they were all illiterate.

I was thinking about several life events this morning as I mentally reviewed the horror of the 60s/70s.

TinkerBelle. 2/7/23

Eight months. 40 pounds.

Nine months.

A Blind-Alley Job

Pages Building Citizenship, a book published in the 1933.

Kind of Blue

N. Kingshighway.

Tower Crane over BJC

East St Louis. Charlie's place

pUZZlE PaLaCE

Aha!
I discovered this box on the kitchen table this morning.
1) I love Roman keys. Some things never go out of use.
2) I love these physical puzzles.
These puzzles are such a mediative process but a bit easy.
Thanks to my man upstairs who's been dragging the night shift for 3 years. Science never sleeps.
If you like investigative reporting and being terrified read The Puzzle Palace.

The End

The evening lurched against me, dropped, and pooled at my ankles.
This is inky business. Sometimes so crushed we don't know we are in pain.
Drenched with night as I listened to a woman pretend she will continue. Broken with terror. My teeth just gritty.
She extends her empty hands and I understand her. We were both drafts.
She was never meant to be. And now. Here.
She/Who loved me.
Said. You/Who are the original. (see/who, she/who was proud of She/Me.
Almost eved at multiples. It was She/Who. Gave heart, ate heart, shattered.
What's in my/me heart I/me didn't put there.
Who/She knows that my/mine sister knows. Ask. She/Who too broken with teeth,grit.

I was skating in a memory will listening to The End by the first Goth Band, The Doors.

Then don't end the right lane. Duh.

Bellie. 2015

Belle is ambitious and has developed an interest in archaeology.
Her recent dig went so deep I could only see her wagging tail.
In the hole she experiences rabid abandonment, a gleefulness usually manifested in a younger dog but when she was younger she was forced to be a mother at a camp.
Now puppyness is a frolicsome adventure of slinging mud about the yard while killing the hostas and gentle ferns.
There's something down there she must have possess.
Perhaps a lost marble shooter. A snoozing beetle. Certainly not a forgotten bone from the other dogs, no, they were mannered and did not dirty their paws.
When called Belle rapidly ascends, glances at the yard, gets her bearings, jumps the steps and flies through the door into my arms.
She reeks and is dirty this little smelly Bellie.

Your Daily Golden Moment with TinkerBelle

TinkerBelle, Itty, and Pyro.

Three Cranes over BJC

I love steel truss bridges

In warmer weather I hang here listening to some of the dozens of trains that pass. Steel rolling on steel is my favorite sound.

The Sixth Decade

Pist: Needs more cowbell, babe.

One of my Dreams about Barack Obama. My Forever President. 2020

In my dream I was in a massive hotel looking over a swelling river with a lot of other official people. Some doomsday effect was going down. Perhaps the river had ruptured and exhausted lives. Maybe the sun was leaking and we were all quarantined. Something deadly.
I had a bossy management position where comprehensive and authoritative decisions were expected.
I was tired. My teeth hurt and were being crushed by other teeth.
The party was contrived and rife with men.
I gazed at the bulging river through distorted hotel glass.
I liked the music being played in the room, upbeat in contrast to the view.
Barack Obama walked into the room. I felt relief.
Instantly everything changed. Someone offered him a drink. He was relaxed, happy, and not self conscious.
People were taking photos of him with their phones.
I asked him to dance and he stared at me.
I usually say the wrong thing so I only mildly flinched at his non response.
You're so short, he said. It would be like dancing with a child.
He lifted me onto an ottoman with casters and this is how we danced. With my hand on his shoulder he slid me about the room.
You can fix everything, I told him.
No, he said, i just know how to dance.

Blood Patch

Charlie's Place. 7/2022

East St Louis.

St Louis Brick

Richard. Pt 2

UPDATE: According to the blog counter this post has been read 4xs more than the others. Hafuckinghaha.
X, long time friend who reads here, emailed to say: That asswipe used to stand directly behind you at Heartbreak Hotel and stare at me whenever I tried to talk to you!(1*) No one understood why you were with him!(2*) We weren't his crowd. He was neither a musican or an artist.(3*)

OP: I was followed through the grocery store yesterday by an old & fat, bald man. I became aware of him when I lifted my phone to read a text and saw him over my shoulder staring at me. Aisle by aisle, he tailed closely behind me.
Weary of it, I reversed my cart mid aisle and bumped his cart behind me as he was trying to swerve. Oh, so sorry, I said as I looked at him. He quickly turned his head away. I noticed he was wearing doll eyeglasses.
An old man wearing *tiny* doll glasses, I was telling a friend later in the day.
Hold up, she said, I know who that is, we're online friends, and I'm texting a photo of him. She added, I *always* thought his photos look like yours. Now I know why, he stalks your blog, too!
With the photo she sent I realized I've seen the furious fat fuck walk and drive SLOWLY by my home several times. I've seen him while reading at my desk.
Dude, you are batshit cray.

#MeToo #ToxicMasculinity #GetOverIt #YoureAStalker #StillALoser #YouveLetYourselfGo #Dude40YearsAgo

Be Bright and Shiny

Quebec

Go with a man who speaks French.

Hey Bill

Update: What, you want the world premier? That would be so much fun!
I finally have all of that front & back yards video - 28 hours of it - edited and ready to go.
30K will cover it.

Three 3s

They are everywhere.

Steel is the spine of America

My favorite sound is steel on steel.
Train wheels rolling on the tracks.

TinkerBelle: Portrait of the Artist as a Young Dog

We don't need your stinkin' help said rabbits.

That sunrise last week.

It made the red brick glow pink.