05 July 2005

Back alley fireworks

No, the subject of this post has nothing to do with my anxiety over Sandra Day O'Connor's impending departure. It's my own dorky sheepishness over a strange guilty pleasure--catching a clandestine kaboom or two out the back window. I live in Chicago. People shoot off all kinds of shit during June and July. I would never set off fireworks myself, because I'm afraid of fire. I never attend fireworks shows...half because every year I forget how much I love them, but also hating crowds and standing around waiting. I'd rather be surprised and scrambling from window to window.

Growing up my family was never rah-rah patriotic whatsoever. We were more likely to be out seeing a foreign film or documentary, and eating some kind of non-American cuisine, instead of eating hot dogs and watching tv and playing with matches. My daughter is destined to grow up similarly. Many years of graduate school await her.

Since I'm talking about my alley, here are some pictures.

my alley
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a weed grows on the threshold of my garage! look at those suckas!
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like two lost souls, finally together! (don't know what's up with the mysterious third character lurking in the shadows)
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hi there
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Did you get your fireworks fix this weekend? In plain view, or on the downlow?


|| t e | sia || k || said...

hi mary. i got so much of a fix in ukranian village that i went to sleep with post-traumatic stress syndrome. it was like baghdad or london during world war II!!

why can't we be like other countries and have celebrations involving great dance parties?? sheesh.

-tesia 'when do i get to be an ex-pat?' kosmalski

Penultimatina said...

Tesia! It was such a treat hangin' with you the other night. Thanks for stopping by--I'm so glad you found my little gang. :)

Great dance parties? You know, I think a few great dance parties would solve most of our country's problems. Always works for me! (insert cheesy techno loop here)

Suzanne said...

Those are some healthy weeds! *lol*

I listened to the fireworks going on outside, but didn't check them out. I'm so morbid that all I could think about is how damn dangerous they are and who would be walking around with nine fingers instead of ten on July 5th.

I did love getting a glimpse of your alley, Mary. :-)

Penultimatina said...

Suzanne, you are my inspiration for taking photos (even though apparently I like photographing ugly, weedy things--lol). ;)

wwwhitman said...

I feel sorry for the third weed mysteriously standing in the shadows like some weedy piece of detritus and weed foliage left out of Leaves of Grass wishing it was a purple coneflower glowing in halcyion days of tallgrass prairie resistance before they plowed it all under and a weed was not just a weed---wink

Penultimatina said...

poor dead Weed? when did you forget you were a Weed? when did you look at your skin and decide you were an impotent dirty old motorcycle? the ghost of a motorcycle? the specter and shade of a once powerful mad American motorcycle? You were never no motorcycle, Weed, you were a
Weed! And you motorcycle, you are a motorcycle, forget me not!

wwwhitman said...

weeds never forget that they are weeds, and old impotent motorcycles never die...they just fade away....

they say "Ever' step of the way I walk the line...Ever'body's days are numbered...and so are mine"...

that's what the weeds and 'cycles say, I think...or mebbe they don't talk at all...

wwwhitman said...

or here's a thought:
"How many weeds must a weed walk down? / before you will call him a weed? / Yes 'n' how many weeds must one person be? / Before he's allowed to be free / as a weed? /
The answer my friend / is blowin in the weeds / the answer is blowin in the weeds...."

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