Happy All Souls Day
Last night, as I embarked upon my ceremonial long-ass walk after a night of drinking, two words jumped out: Fucking Cold!!!
I never plan to go on these walks, they just occur out of necessity. The necessity to go home to a somewhat warm bed, and the fact that I keep missing my last bus home. It is totally my fault, so mock me all you want. The moment I learn how to add a comment section, then I can truly feel a connection with the world by reading nonexistent comments to my rants.
Anyway, as usual I digress. So there I am walking my usual route through the perils and pitfalls of 41st Avenue. Cold. Drunk. Tired. And did I mention cold? Being a pro at this, I already know the trip will take me a mere hour to complete. Yes, I've done this time and time again. From my house to Oak Street or Oakridge Mall (on Cambie and not Oak) is roughly an hour walk, give or take a few minutes. The journey is nothing, but then again this coming from a person that has walked across Knight Street Bridge many times, as well as excursions between downtown Vancouver/Gastown and my home. Each, an approximate 2-4 hour trek depending on my route.
Again, I digress. I walk and walk. The only part of the trek along 41st Avenue I dread is the block of Fraser Street. No, I'm not referring to street toughs or their numerous wannabe fans from Middle Class families. I hate walking by the cemetery. It would only be worse if I were perhaps walking along 33rd Avenue where you have that faint strip of road, a block long, between the two-halves of the Vancouver cemetery. Not that an undead thingy has ever approached me before, but, I might as well not put myself in a situation where it may occur, no matter how slight. Being that the night was Hallowe'en just turned it up a notch. So, if anything weird were to happen, then that would be the night for it to do so.
Ooooooh . . . ahhhhhhhh . . .
No nothing happened.
Or did it?
COUGHPUSSYCOUGH
Who said that?
And I walk . . . and walk. Many thoughts go through one's mind at times of isolation. Why am I here? Is there a purpose? Blah blah blah . . . Unfortunately, for me my mind loved to blackout. Every now and then I'd pop back into consciousness to find that I've traveled a half block or so, and surprised I did not stumble onto 41st. Kinda creepy, even for me. So, if anyone noticed a bundled-up zombie stumbling along 41st during the wee hours of Hallowe'en Night, that was me.
Maybe something did happen to me back at the cemetery.
Muwahahaha . . .
I never plan to go on these walks, they just occur out of necessity. The necessity to go home to a somewhat warm bed, and the fact that I keep missing my last bus home. It is totally my fault, so mock me all you want. The moment I learn how to add a comment section, then I can truly feel a connection with the world by reading nonexistent comments to my rants.
Anyway, as usual I digress. So there I am walking my usual route through the perils and pitfalls of 41st Avenue. Cold. Drunk. Tired. And did I mention cold? Being a pro at this, I already know the trip will take me a mere hour to complete. Yes, I've done this time and time again. From my house to Oak Street or Oakridge Mall (on Cambie and not Oak) is roughly an hour walk, give or take a few minutes. The journey is nothing, but then again this coming from a person that has walked across Knight Street Bridge many times, as well as excursions between downtown Vancouver/Gastown and my home. Each, an approximate 2-4 hour trek depending on my route.
Again, I digress. I walk and walk. The only part of the trek along 41st Avenue I dread is the block of Fraser Street. No, I'm not referring to street toughs or their numerous wannabe fans from Middle Class families. I hate walking by the cemetery. It would only be worse if I were perhaps walking along 33rd Avenue where you have that faint strip of road, a block long, between the two-halves of the Vancouver cemetery. Not that an undead thingy has ever approached me before, but, I might as well not put myself in a situation where it may occur, no matter how slight. Being that the night was Hallowe'en just turned it up a notch. So, if anything weird were to happen, then that would be the night for it to do so.
Ooooooh . . . ahhhhhhhh . . .
No nothing happened.
Or did it?
COUGHPUSSYCOUGH
Who said that?
And I walk . . . and walk. Many thoughts go through one's mind at times of isolation. Why am I here? Is there a purpose? Blah blah blah . . . Unfortunately, for me my mind loved to blackout. Every now and then I'd pop back into consciousness to find that I've traveled a half block or so, and surprised I did not stumble onto 41st. Kinda creepy, even for me. So, if anyone noticed a bundled-up zombie stumbling along 41st during the wee hours of Hallowe'en Night, that was me.
Maybe something did happen to me back at the cemetery.
Muwahahaha . . .
posted by Shockah Karl at 8:27 p.m.
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