10:50 Saturday Morning
Parking ramp at the Highland Lunds. Radio K is playing some long God Speed You Black Emperor dirge and I let it play. Pull out of the exit, disoriented in this new part of Highland where everything is new. I’m driving over an old Ford plant. The song is moving crazy slow. The small signs are all around of St. Patrick’s Day. That’s why they were selling corned beef. That’s why they had the cabbages on the end cap.
Mint teatree tooth pick in my mouth. The coffee tastes really good for the first time today. The coffee this morning felt like no coffee taste. Maybe I have a cold. I couldn’t smell the gross old salmon that Rachel is feeding the dogs either. The coffee wakes me up. The toothpick is invigorating. The song is slow, methodical. Clean guitar playing long single note lines with minimal support. Cloudy skies but not shitty yet. The weather is supposed to be strangely shitty later. Snow, rain, cold. For stretches of minutes I won’t be able to remember what month it is, always been that way. Is it one of the months where the weather is shitty, but soon it’ll be even worse (October, November)? Or is it one of the months where it’s shitty but it is about to get insanely amazing (March, April)? Corned beef. Irish flags. People walking to bars well before noon. It’s March. The leprechaun saw his shadow, we are moving into a positive season. Four women who I want to call girls cause I bet they are twenty three or younger getting dropped off by an Uber on Ford Parkway. Layers of makeup. Hair spray. I can imagine the bouquet of perfumes, lotions and sprays surrounding their entourage as they walk by the bus stop, probably going to Tiffany’s. Those white tops that look kind of laminated and perfect. I bet they have put makeup on the necks and what is that word for the top of breasts? Decolletage? That is not it. Necklaces. Hairspray. Green highlights like scarves and things. Green hats. One girl in a Vikings jersey cause fuck it Skol. I am thinking about St. Patricks Days in my late 20s/early 30s. Ipod in listening to I-Self Devine and drinking big gingers and getting lost in the drinks. Embracing the insanity of it all. Terrible weather. Muddy tent in the parking lot of Shamrocks. Bumming a cigarette and regretting it. Smelling the party vibes. Enjoying the party vibes. Taking out the headphones. Looking at the girls. Laminated white tops. Mardi Gras beads. It’s not Mardi Gras. The song on Radio K is still going. I have parked. The fajitas supplies are coming in the house. I am coming in the house. I am thinking about St. Patricks Day. And I am thinking about dirges, toothpicks but mostly how a gaggle of young women smell stepping out for a St. Patrick’s Day observed that starts at 10:50am in Highland.
