Wednesday, November 26, 2003

(it helps to read the next several entries in reverse order) don't wait too long So this is where the Trix semi-trailer patiently awaits, for anyone who would like to acquire its aforementioned magical powers. (Don't wiat too long, its not very well hidden, and its likely to be taken by a curious kid, or that wild band of punks). 5:49:19 PM    comment []

thing-a-majig I then nestled the Trix semi-Trailer in one of these rectangular spaces in the concrete thing-a-majig behind the Tampa Museum of art. 5:42:55 PM    comment []

while I was in the area... While I was in the area, I decided to plant Duh! artifact, 1037g (the Trix semi)into its magical hiding spot. Here is the Trix Semi-Trailer, sitting behind the the Tampa Museum of Art with the Hillsborough river, and the University of Tampa in the background. 5:40:03 PM    comment []

wild band of punks Today I followed the trail of the wild band of punks that stole my "Duh!" stencil, across the bay to downtown Tampa. I nearly caught up with them at this bridge over the Hillsborough river, but alas, they all jumped in a primer grey,1985 Camaro and zoomed away. The only clue I was left with was this "duh.cc" tag.  5:35:03 PM    comment []

greyhound   One of the last times I came home from FSU in Tallahassee my roommate got me really high before dropping me off at the bus station.  While I was waiting for my bus, a group of college girls came up and asked me if their girlfriend could sit next to me, since she was nervous about riding alone.  (You see, most college kids travel in safe, friendly cars and planes with other college kids.  Buses tend to be filled with down-on-their luck drifters and other people that a college girl would be scared of.) Anyway, I said I would be happy to ride with their friend who was  actually quite pretty, and because I was really high, I was friendly and talkative and we hit it off pretty well. But when it was time to get on the bus I was still so high that I forgot all about the girl and strolled to one of the back aisles and sat down where there were no other seats available.  I sat blithely like this for a few moments--what seemed in my mind like a very long time--until the memory of the poor girl flashed back to me and I jumped out of my seat like someone had stuck me with a pin. I found the girl sitting forlornly by herself about ten aisles up, and I apologized profusely.  I explained how stoned I was, and she laughed and things were good again.  In fact, this was one of the last times I experienced one of the magic benefits of smoking pot.  Where I am normally quiet and nervous around new people, this time I was bubbling with all sorts of funny hings to say.  I have idea what I was saying, but I remember I kept the girl laughing and giggling for miles as we rode through the dark Florida  night. But my high was suddenly killed when a dark and faceless voice came from the seat behind me and said, "If you don't shut the fuck up, I am going to put my fist down your throat."  This threat completely paralyzed me.  I couldn't even bring myself to turn around and look at this person. He has no right to talk to you like that, the college girl said to me.   But I just couldn't say anything, and sat and wondered what I could have said to make the guy so mad.  This silent misery went on for a couple of hours.  Then finally, the guy got up to leave at some small, nameless Florida town. "Now, you can talk," he said when he left. I got to St. Pete at about five in the morning and started walking home from downtown.  Pretty soon, it started pouring down rain.   (from Beautiful Loser, 2002) 8:20:39 AM    comment []

© Copyright 2003 Mark Michaels. Last update: 12/1/2003; 7:06:02 PM.