Tuesday Tirade: Trash Talk

Garbage, we have to talk. It’s not you; it’s…them.

Them? The people who are incapable of carrying you home or for those few extra blocks to find a trash can. The people who carelessly release you into a world you don’t belong. The people who just open their car window and toss you into the ditch.

You? You’re not at fault. You were once important to someone. You held their drink. You kept the germs out of their lungs. You wiped the mustard from hungry lips. Then they callously let you go, and your identity changed.

You are now garbage, and I don’t say that in a malicious way because it wasn’t your choice.

I’m sorry that you have been abandoned on the ground. I’m glad you don’t know that you are missing the party going on in the can over there. Sometimes, I’ve picked you up, but I can’t do it all the time; there’s just too much. I’m sorry.

Maybe the hand that let you go needs a swift kick in the…well, the hand.

-Leon


Leon Stevens is a blogger, composer, artist, and an author of three books (so far): Lines by Leon: Poems, Prose, and PicturesJourneys: Eight Original Pieces for Classical Guitar and The Knot at the End of the Rope and Other Short Stories.
www.linesbyleon.com

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Tuesday Tirade: Kinda…

I hadn’t had anything planned to post in the morning until the fire alarm went off in the building. I grabbed my wallet, keys, laptop, and hard drive—essentially my bug out kit.

Now, it’s nine thirty and the apartment below me is billowing smoke. Some guy ran out with a fire extinguisher and yelled “I got it out! It was on the stove.”

So, a grease fire you say…

It happens. That’s what fire alarms are for, right?

The fire department arrived, did their checks and set up fans to clear the smoke. At least it’s not cold outside. I have insurance and everyone is safe. I bet my place smells like smoke—and I just finished a big load of laundry.

There’s no reason to rant, I just hope that the people below me have learned a cooking lesson.

Hey! My wi-fi works all the way out here across the parking lot. Good thing I have a 40 character encryption key…

They let us back in and I walked up the 3 flights of stairs, smelling the acrid remnants of the night’s events. The firefighters turned on my oven vent—that’s not going to help, and my bathroom vent. Since the fire was below me, if I open the windows, I can still smell it. If I close the windows…

So, the windows are open and the fans are on. Now I have a post for the morning.

-Leon

Leon Stevens is a blogger, composer, artist, and an author of three books (so far): Lines by Leon: Poems, Prose, and PicturesJourneys: Eight Original Pieces for Classical Guitar and The Knot at the End of the Rope and Other Short Stories.
www.linesbyleon.com

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Tuesday Tirade: People

Today I’m going to rant about people. Oh, not you. I like you. It’s those other ones. You know the ones I’m talking about.

Irrisponsible dog owners. I see dog poop on sidewalks and trails all the time. If you have a dog, you pick it up, that’s the rule. Did you miss that question on the test? Ever forget a poop bag? I have. You only usually do that once (well, maybe twice). Do you leave it? Of course not, you find a leaf, a piece of garbage, or as a last resort, you flick it into the bushes or bury it. What really makes me shake my head are the people who use the bag, then leave it on the ground. Are you kidding me?

Cyclists. I’m one, but I’m not one of those. You’ve seen them. The darters, the lane hogs, the speeders, the “I don’t have to signalers”. They are the ones that make drivers and pedestrians dislike us.

The Rudes. Your not the most important person on the planet. Everything doesn’t revolve around you, and you have no right to berate the cashier when they are having difficulty serving you. Getting angry isn’t going to get your order ready any faster.

The Vroomers. They get mad when you may have accidentally cut them off, or committed the horrible offence of…wait for it…pulling in front of them. They them proceed to accelerate quickly to put you in the rearview mirror. I also saw a driver the other day accelerating in front of an emergency vehicle—I assume so that they wouldn’t have to pull over. They are probably the ones who need to squeal their tires at 3 AM.

Are there more that need a mention? Yeah, but I don’t have time.

-Leon

Leon Stevens is a blogger, composer, artist, and an author of three books (so far): Lines by Leon: Poems, Prose, and PicturesJourneys: Eight Original Pieces for Classical Guitar and The Knot at the End of the Rope and Other Short Stories.
www.linesbyleon.com

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