Anger/Calm

A man sleeps in the trunk of an automobile as his partner works the power washer for a mobile detailing service in the parking lot over in a section of town where not too many people own cars that actually run, sure there are plenty of broken, stripped down, and burnt out shells of passenger vehicles but not too many worth the money spent for a customized cleaning. The detail artist looks to be more intent of using the high powered spray to remove the finish from the paint on the automobile at the moment, could be from a heighten state of boredom or the selfish cause of enacting a bit of retrobution for a transgression thrown his way earlier in the day. Either way by the looks of his work ethic, today might be his last day on the job. The suds are drying on the car, he has dissapeared like a magician on stage, so after a few minutes of silence the other guy sleeping in the trunk rises, then takes a look around, hmmm, nothing, oh wait, the detailer has been ducked down drying off the rims, well great, satisfied, the other guy goes back to sleep in the trunk.

I had to get some quarters for laundry from one of those change machines that never seems satisfied with taking dollar bills unless they have been freshly printed. No time for patience today, well shit, the local drunks have arrived this woman in a pink hoodie holding a Steel Reserve tall boy can barely stand up, she is swaying as if all sense of gravity has temporary left her at the moment, while her man rolls past me with a couple more tall boys in the sack. The woman sat down in a near by chair, abandoned all hope she cries, content and unfettered by the bills, the world, and the need for a residence. The two of them have already been kicked out of three eating establishments like refugees without a country, don't these business owners realize this couple really want to eat, it probably has been a week since their last slice of pizza or trash found leftovers from the regional trash bin. Cigarettes and alcohol are on the menu today, easy to digest, time passes so quickly standing still, waiting, for anything, a new job, a new lover, a day where everything goes your way, or a day wasted on the rails of excessive light speed, time warp they call it in the business, over the edge into the abyss, subconscious memory slips, optical drives encode all events perceived or otherwise, zombie statis program, move through the familiar, clouded, distant, yet somehow present, response, offend, and carry on, shelter is for the weak, out in the open plain for us, where the guns are constantly aimed upon me.

I always feel like I am on the clock, yelling at the change machine cause it will not take my five dollar bill, been spending the past five minutes running from washing machine to dryer while all the other people in the laundromat look at me as if injected with an overdose of medical grade stimulants. No one else in here cares, they just stack 50lb sacks of dirty clothes in any available corner, as if they had their own clothes cleaning side business. On the way in I watched a family walk out with at least thirteen 50lb pound sacks of clothes, sheets, and towels, amazing, a garment heist of epic proportions,someone backs up a large van and pick up truck while family members appear from out of nowhere, like clowns out of small car during a circus act. Just as quickly everyone filed in, grabbed the bags then made their way back out to the vehicles, speeding out into the afternoon sun. The laundromat assistant came over to help subside my current state of anger, I felt embarrassed that the man had discovered me in my self centered dumb ass mind set. The assistant took my five exchanged it for a fresh bill, then calmly walked over to the change machine, put the bill in and out came five dollars in quarter and left the scene with a smile making me feel like a complete idiot who had no control of my emotions. The event brought me back to a more relaxed nature, pondering my aggressive state in regards to the change machine, a big waste of overcharged action. Well, all that was left to do was make a return to my previous hyperactive mode of putting my clothes in the dryer, then head back out the van to write this down.