An olden gent on a frozen bench,
He called me over yonder;
Said, "See, young buck, you watch your step
That you don't go tumblin' under.
'Tis a slipp'ry swatch of an icy patch
O'er near where you be walkin',
Where I dipped my hip and I slipped my grip,
An' the pavement came a talkin'!
O, the pavement, he came talkin!"
"Dear sir," said I, with a wince and a sigh,
"What led you such a dis-tance?
For a stroll in the lane, sans stick or cane,
It's clear, can't be a mis-chance;
Though young to you, my years are not
Quite close to buck-hood nither,
And my eyes see, if wise they be,
Some trouble brought you thither!
What trouble brings you thither?"
The old gent tossed his head right back,
And lent a hearty cackle;
"Young man, yon eyes do see indeed—
My plight is tough as Spackle!
The goody ole Wife of my dear life,
Were she and me a drivin',
When a bump we hit in our cart an' kit,
And a curse from my mouth came thrivin',
Yes, a curse from my mouth came thrivin'!"
"Goody ole Wife, flashed sharp as a knife,
Took meanly to my hecklin',
So she put me out o' the side o' the car,
To ponder the oaths I necked in.
And then!" said he, with a hoo and a hee,
"I sawr this bench for settin',
But as I said, I slipped and sled,
And naught but a bruise be gettin'—
It's quite a bruise I'm gettin'!"
So down sat I, with a wink and a sigh,
On the frozen bench in Winter,
Ole Gent and me, with a hoo and a hee,
An' the icy bench so splinter'd;
We sat all day, till the Wife gave way,
And forgave him for his cursin'.
She drove up nigh with the moon in the sky,
But for me, the cold weren't worsened;
No! for me, the cold weren't worsened.
I sat there nigh, with the moon in the sky,
But for me the cold weren't worsened!
This is it? This is what you made?
Did you hang this under the sun and set it out to fade?
The color is all wrong. The strokes all feel clumsy.
There is not even a background! Now that’s just being lazy.
The composition is confusing. The subject is a bore.
There are millions just like this one. I’ve seen it all before.
Why did you create this? How were you inspired?
Each empty stroke and poor design is lack to be desired.
It is dull. It makes me want to snore.
If it were hung in a gallery it would be one I would ignore.
It would not be in a gallery because it is not all exciting.
I wish you made something new! Something awesome and inviting!
But instead you showed me this. I am just so disappointed.
If you have thought about making another, that idea should be avoided.
It’s pedestrian, is really all I can say.
Please paint something else. And paint it right away.
“Follow your passion”
Is placating-cheap-wall-decor-sign-rubbish advice,
Because at some point of achievement it always turns into
“Maintain status quo.”
When I was in Seattle, a city bus stopped in the middle of the road
To wave my friend and I across the street
When we were waiting to jaywalk.
Excited about a new job I loved, I was gushing,
So my uncle kindly reminded me,
“Every job has bad days.”
While living in a city where I walked 30 minutes of my commute,
I would listen to music in my headphones the whole time.
More than one co-worker said they saw me and waved,
But I was completely oblivious.
If I write the book…
If I start a family…
If I move to the city…
If I start my own company…
If I land the big gig…
If I buy a house with a yard…
If I rule the world…
It all becomes monotonous, eventually.
In college I once ran to catch a bus just as it was leaving the stop.
The driver saw me and opened the door.
Without stopping he yelled, “Get on!”
So I jumped onto a moving bus.
Everyone cheered.
I used to fear that my life would be completely unoriginal.
I used to fear it would turn out too basic.
Now I fear being lonely.
Two of my friends have gotten hit by cars
While riding those little motor scooter things.
They were okay.
But it made me feel like wearing a helmet.
Sometimes choosing something I could fail at
Feels irresponsible
And I wonder what my life would look like
If I felt no responsibilities.
A few years ago I saw a lady get out of her car
In the middle of a busy road
To help a group of baby geese get across safely.
Someone posed this question to me:
“Would you rather have your dream job
In a place where you don't connect with your coworkers,
Or mow lawns with your five best friends
For the rest of your life?”
And my answer makes me remember
Living is simple.
“Mine too. What’s your favorite album?”
“Daydream.”
He titled his head slightly. “Interesting, that one probably had the most studio influence."
She got off the bus one stop early.
A teenage musical duo extended the last note beyond propriety. An amiable audience of daytime pub goers, mostly retirees, clapped mild support. "This is our last song because I have homework tonight," said the vocalist. Mild laughter, and then a mild uproar after his introduction: "This is 'Free Fallin', by John Mayer."
The mobile plinked out a tinny rendition of Mozart’s most recognized concerto. Its gears ground quietly, and then unevenly as a dangling felt mouse caught the edge of the bassinet. The baby stared for a moment as the last note faded out. There was a potent silence, and then the music looped again. She turned away and spat out her pacifier.
Omnipresent deer
Are always watching from the shadows
Motionless on stilts of coiled spring
Waiting for your dinner invitation
"Helena. Helen. Helen-nun-nuh..." He said. "It's a bit pedestrian, isn't it?"
She rolled her eyes. "Your face is pedestrian."
- - -
Something I learned this month is that the term pedestrian usually refers to a walker in an urban area. Perhaps even a village. At bare minimum, the pedestrian should at least be making her way along a road.
The English word comes from a latin word that meant "going by foot," but the concept goes back much further, even before there were such things as pavement and bricks and flagstones and the lot. The earliest human civilizations must have been filled with pedestrians. They were contrasted by carts and chariots and dinosaur riders or whatever else, but there were always the walkers.
I guess the only point in time the concept would have been useless as a word would have been a time when humans had not yet figured out any other way to get around other than their own two feet. No need to designate the mode of transportation, simply people moving about those people villages. It honestly sounds kind of nice.
More recently, "pedestrian" got its big debut in the english language as slang for "dull." It's funny to think about snooty rich girls calling everything pedestrian as they raced around with horses and cabs and trolleys. Walking was not only out of style, it was an insult.
I'm not sure if it was the part where everybody (even grandma) owns a car, or the subsequent traffic jams, but the hubbub of motion has become kind of pedestrian itself. It's safe to say that walking is cool again. Or at least, something people make time to do on purpose. Pedestrian is back and here to stay to describe the walkers of human civilization, so give them a wave. Say hello. Try it sometime.
Even little ducks are pedestrians. Don't hit the ducks.