Tour

Cat-tails always died with the winter but re-greened in spring. I tried control to act, result, same-act, same-result. I made it happen. There seemed to be limits on what I could make. So I tried something else. The rules made me. The rules predicted what I should do.

Christian condition was corresponded to how-it-should-be and graded metrically. I adopted the mind-set - the Christian prejudices of moral-fibertude. I thought it nice to be superior. Imagine that. I am superior. Too-bad you are not. Never are the twain to meet.

This guy grades low. He smokes. He sat in front of me in some maybe high-school sophomore class. I looked at his short-sleeved smoke saturated arm skin and was horrified. I didn't like his looks. He was a greaser, with shiny long black hair, a gangster. He smoked. He slouched and slunk. He held his shoulders forward and hunched. He bobbed his head from here to there. Did it better than the movie actors. He had a rep. He was somebody. People knew who he was. We never spoke. He was anathema to me. And I was an idiot-prig to him I'm sure.

I want that little doggie in the window. Who is behind the window ? Are they Christians ? Are they not ? It was territorial. So new question - what was the difference ? Certainly that is something I wanted to know. My grandparents were Christians. My mother was not. My mother was a dancer who got kids instead of movies and fame.

I studied all these houses. They were all mysterious. I walked passed them from the bus stop to home. I looked at everything. I dawdled and mused. Same as today. Mostly two story white Victorians fronted with Oak trees. But there were some I couldn't figure, like the redwood rancher with a high, wood, red fence, most of the way around and a western ambiance.

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