Shakedown Giants … Still Gianting

(The first part of this is something I wrote earlier in the week, Monday the 13th, but I knew wasn’t finished so thus …)

No, driving into work this morning didn’t seem like I was living some sort of bad, though all too real movie.

It’s been overly windy for days but it really kicked in last night screaming around and shaking my second floor windows and walls like a pissed off giant trying to get me to fall out on top of our tall hill and it hasn’t subsided today, making BB dance and sway back and forth on the ride while just trying our damndest to stay straight, buffeting him with apparent ill intended windy glee. The sky’s are dark and ominous with intermittent rain and my daily takes me along the Hudson which was really in a mood, with endless roiling ripples of small angry white swells that you could practically hear yelling back and forth at each other at each snap of their breaks.

The roads were littered with the debris from trees or with actual trees that have just given up their roots, or snapped in half or decided to relax their standing tall and instead just lean on power lines like a one too many regular needing the bar for support. There were roads that were closed including one that forced me and BB to detour down another that was a bit remote so, thus, around even more debris. I could hear occasional sirens in the distance, I even passed a lonely funeral earlier, just those who had a job to do, a hearse, a backhoe and a poor soul and, no, I’m not going to speculate nor mention the tear. I just can’t.

Just a surreal start to the week in surreal times and it hasn’t really let up. Even now I sit in my little studio at work on generator power as the wind’s giants continue to work their shakedown business … freakin’ giants …

(to be continued)

… freakin’ giants. A good friend asked me, after reading this quick take on the shakedown and the surreal start to the week, if I had tamed my giants while noting that she and I must have similar ones as hers and mine are conspiring against us. “Mine clubbed me with their blunt weapons all night last night” she said. “Nature took it’s course” I said back “and tamed the physical ones, her ones … the others? Still tossing me around, same as you”.

After this past ominous Monday to start the week the skies lightened on Tuesday, the wind died down, the screamed whipping attempts to shake me from place onto my tall hill alone like some simple Ken toy bounced, tossed from a life sized dollhouse stopped, and the giants found me newly resolute though a bit shaky. BB and I’s ride wasn’t as iffy on this Tuesday, lesser winds had done what needs be done to make the roads seem, seem clearer, more normal I guess, a ride now like any other for the moment, the Hudson had calmed, its angry small white capped swell snap breaks not necessary at the moment, they had already made their point, there were no funerals to pass this Tuesday at least, thankfully, at least not the ones I could see. But that is what the giants depend on, a semblance, a hope that today might just be the one that you wish signals change or, at least, doesn’t seem as bad. But those fuckers, they just wait don’t they? Hovering. Bullies that hope for you to let down your guard, maybe they’re not waiting for me around that corner that I tip toe up to as silently as I can I think, oh, but they’re waiting. I know they are.

Tomorrow will be two weeks since my last time spotted in a place with peoples, a shopping need, a more than that just one guy at the Mobil, behind a newly built/added plexiglass screen, a more than just that one guy or girl I thank for the curbside who I give a quick hello to from my elbow, or from behind my mask, blocking any little cough that just might be a signal, a more than just the few folks left at the station for now.

But this shit resets doesn’t it? Any time you stray away from the straight there and straight back, mask or not, gloves or not, quick or not, holding your breath or not, this shit resets.

Is this overly dramatic? Of course it is. It’s what we do, or what I do anyway right now. Is this drama warranted? Well you tell me, take a count, and add places like Florida, their dumb uniquely, sadly, orangely, all theirs. Is the drama warranted?

But I’m still keeping my head down and up, up and down. Finger to the wind.

Seems, giants, you and I could be at an impasse. You’re bigguns, you’re more than me, too often, and I understand that, invading my sleep and even my wake-ed days, but less on occasion now which I’m thankful for. I’m moving while staying put, at least for the weekends. I understand the reset, the fear of it, but conversations I have back and forth, upside down and sideways, rightside, leftside, otherside, intentional long winded words with my sister or good friends, words to distract with an any them, any other than you and your bully tactics, makes me feel better. I take deep breaths, check my forehead, go for walks around a wished normal world about the back way and the expensive houses that sit on this, their also, hill. I used to wonder while I walk what people in these expensive houses think of the cows, the horses down the way are a given, a joy to see for them I’m sure, but what of the cows up here when I catch back up with them at the end of the down the driveway and up walk around through the neighborhood loop? What do they think of the cows? Let’s call the first album from Suburban Bovines “Cows And The Horses They Rode In On”.

You’re giants, misgiven thoughts, fears, a lack of sleep, an attempt at control … you’re in my head, maybe always will be at this point, a pain in the ass, noggin, but you don’t own me just yet.

And any idea of group anytime soon has passed by the way, in case you were hoping, and I’m Ok with that, waaaay before this, good with that. Gotcha there. Anti social was already a skill.

Giants you stomp, it’s what you do, you big footed bastards you, walk all over us. You’re loud and insistent, invasive, obnoxious and noxious but maybe we have an understanding now. I’ve put it down.

Here

I know you

We know you

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