northanger (northanger) wrote,
northanger
northanger

this looks ominous

one of those no clean clothes days. handwashed a shirt & bra & ran to the laundry room. luckily, there was a dryer free.

finally go get it. walking out my front door i'm looking at #4 & see a small mound in front of the door. it's a dead gray bird on a bright sunny day. very beautiful actually. almost like someone deliberately placed it there. birds come around here a lot & the managers feed them with bird seed. i'm standing right next to this sad bird, a bird i've probably seen alive once, looking down at its neatly folded wings lying along its back. i stand there looking at it a long time. its little face & closed eyes seem almost human—it occurs somewhere in the back of my mind that it's got those cartoony Xs on its eyes. standing there i look up at the door & think my neighbor is in trouble. (i'm thinking "he's dead" actually).

i've hit the surreal zone because i was just reading someone on lj having a dream. suddenly their premonition is some kind of an advanced warning system setting off a feeling of foreboding in me. kicking off a mental domino with me visualizing 20,000 people on the other side of the planet shivering in fearful anticipation. is this bird some sort of overdose detector like those coal mine canaries? do these birds have a union with membership cards & pay their dues in bird seed?

i hear my next door neighbor throwing up almost daily. one time he threw up in the sink causing my sink to backup. he was chucking his guts out & all i could do was walk out of the bathroom & deal with that mess later.

the first time he asked for money he looked clean & alert. he was hungry. i gave him an egg one day, but that day he asked for $20 to go get something to eat. he was wearing a t-shirt, shorts, and floppies. he's got a big, blue, beat up truck tied up with string. dirty blonde hair & blue eyes (i think). he came back with food & paid me back as promised. the last time he asked for money he looked like raggedy andy & seemed jumpy. he asked me how i was doing but didn't hear me say "ok". he asks again, more forcefully, how are you? talking clearly i say "ok" looking at him through the screen door looking at me like i'm not following proper jumping bean etiquette. asked for another $20 but i was broke (i have my own addictions) & said i'd give him $2 bucks. he was in "big trouble" he said sadly, looking down at the ground.

ironically, the cops broke up a meth lab in that apartment several years ago. folks that lived there had small children. learned later that some child around here was abused. the police pounded on my door at 2am the first month i was here because someone heard a "child crying"—don't laugh, i was listening to my walkman & the wind beneath my wings made me extremely emotional. so a few weeks ago {1} a white guy is banging on number four's door, then {2} jim tells me the cops were banging on number four's door looking for somebody.

you get kinda suspicious when there's a white guy with black people coming to visit him in a white, rich neighborhood.

this is an interesting friday.

7:34pm

i work in a small building. someone managed to set the alarm without realizing elvis had not left the building. the alarm system engaged by the time i started running to the front door yelling. missed em. but managed to disable the screaming meanie & waiting a hotsec to see if anyone called or drove by with lights flashing.

the dead bird is no longer in front of number four. rang the bell before leaving, no answer. looked like it would take several more hours before the managers discovered its decomposing body. so i knocked on their door & told vickie. we walked over to the dead bird & poked it. it was still dead. a live version of the deceased perched serenely on a telephone wire. vickie told me she'd seen #4 that day & as we were talking a guy walked up, knocked on the door & the door opened.

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