Friggin squirrels...

In this neighborhood I am cautious when I see squirrels. Perhaps in your neighborhood they act how they are suppose to, as I remember them to. They are shadow dwellers that prefer to be as unseen as possible. They are like automatic doors, they move out of your way before you even think of it as an obstacle. Scared, jumpy creatures that are overly aware of their surroundings and that scurry up a trees at a moments notice. Human contact?- they are unscathed. They are collectors of small nutty things that you or I never notice laying the the grass or gutter.

That's the way squires are, as I remember, suppose to act. Perhaps these are college squirrels. I have concidered this severel times on the grounds that like most college dude douche-bags, they walk a fuzzy line between ignorance and cockiness, like that guy that crossing the street in front of you even tho you have the green, and it's like he knows he's walking right in front of you and he knows you gotta wait for him... Dosent even do some half assed jog for the sake of basic humane politeness. The squirrels here are impolite like that. They also wear hemp accessories and listen to Dave Mathews Band and really bad commercial rap.

Yeah, the squirrels here, will sit in the middle of the sidewalk. And just sit there. I damn near tripped over one the other day. Right as I was about to step on it it trotted away with the casual and comfortable swagger of a family dog walk it's property lines. What stuck me as the oddest was that it was dragging along with it a Pacific Sun shirt but then, after a moment of consideration, it was all quit nominal.

It wouldn't be so bad if they simply left it at ignoring your existence. But no, they watch you as you awkwardly get around them. The worse is when they are in the trees. Often times when they are climbing a tree they will stop so they are right at eye level. They will watch you as you pass. I can't help but think this is something similar to how a black man would feel walking by a bunch of white folks on their porch in the old South. Only this is more alarming for me because this isn't the old South, it's just about me and some dumb squirrels I even go as far as to think about possible scenarios involving the squirrels attacking me and the possible actions I would have. Like if one jumped on my shoulder from a tree I would have to grab it's tail with the opposite hand or if I came too close to stepping on one I would just step on it's tail anyway and have some baddass line like “Going somewhere?”. Sadist thing is that's the best line I can come up with. I start to worry if my reclusive lifestyle is taking a toll on me mentally.

That's why I was relieved to have Sabrina at my house. Sabrina is an old roommate of mine. We lived in a house together back in Flint. I guess we, along with a couple other people, lived together for a little over a year. And that is how fate had paired us together, she needed a place to stay and I had rooms to fill up. But fate was favorable in that we clicked together rather naturally. In the years sense we had scattered our separate ways from the Kennelworth house me and Sabrina had been able to keep in sporadic contact with one another and maintain friendly relations. I think it is due to the fact that nether one of us aspired to become overly successful in our young adulthood, something that distracts people from things like keeping it real, and also that we never had sex. I have determined, by a battery of very serious and scientifically isolated clinical trials, that sexual relations withers a co-ed relationship. Altho if we had sex it probably would have been spectacular, I'd imagine.

Sometimes, as the movies portray it, people that have long not seen each other embrace one another with a concentrated joy that could only have accumulated from 10 years of absence. This is not the case with Flint town homefries. And that's what I love. I've always hated good-byes, I'm that kinda guy. I also hate overly passionate hellos. Saying goodbye seems like such a pessimistic thing, and later seems so alien and informal over someone you are suppose to have the utmost comfort with. It is in my opinion that your most intimate and meaningful moments with someone should be in the most mundane, everyday moments.

When a good friend is back around you can play it how it lays. I dropped the usual false alias in which I'd made millions in speculating on the bear market. I put my plastic monocle on the shelf. I'm just David, more or less. After all she had already lived with me, as a roommate, back in the day. She was hanging around at the worse. Pathetic and junky, twas, but despite this she was always keen to me. Perhaps it's that she was able to see me for what I aspire to be- not who I was- and/or maybe on top of that she also takes solice with the knowledge of her own short comings. Dosnt matter. Doesn't matter what the reason, it's a good reason for why-ever.

Yeah, some people fake being friends just because they were friends. Not Flintstones. They will say 'later' after you signed a four year contract with the army and when they see you again they say 'what's up'. No fakey sentimental bullshit here. Bump fists with Stoicism and suave. Flintstoners keep it real.

And real we kept it. Without even discussing it we both decided to forgo the touristy things in Kalamazoo (yes the entire plethora of touristy things to do). We watched mystery science theater 3000. We listened to a faded mix tape. We got high.

When I was at work I suspect she just walked around and smoked and stuff. And when I would return home we would walk and talk. When making breakfast I rediscovered that she didn't eat meat. Ooops. I bought three pounds of bacon for nothing. The only noble thing to do is eat a shit-ton of bacon.

Pleasantly, inner-dialog with myself had dropped totally. It was totally weird to get input from an external verbal source.

On a sunny Sunday afternoon we walked to the theater to see 'UP' (in 3D, so we ofcourse got high). At one point there came to be a fatty little squirrels in our path. “The squirrels around here are nuts” she says. I love you Sabrina, thanks. My sanity is now restored. And I realize that the break in solitude has lent me a fresh, new- or perhaps rediscovered- perspective on things. I charge at the rodent and kick it like a field goal. The tubby rodent arks high in the air and lands somewhere in the far distance. “Going somewhere?” I smugly remark.