Wednesday, October 7, 2015


Recently went to Denver for a few days, The Brocker is thrilled. She grew up here, worked and dated and married the guy, father of her kids, so forth.

Saccharine tune, best I can do for the text. This represents the dream rather than the reality of Denver. No pix of bums sleeping on the steam vents, no fear vibes or thunder of hooves. 


We stayed downtown at a Holiday Inn, and walked around all the old streets, places where she worked; went to the neighborhood where she lived, in the projects (she grew up in a poor family, not much money, one year a neighbor gave her a winter coat since she didn't have one). "Oh, look, there's the theater where I worked" (or at least the facade, turned into retail shops now) and she is amazed at how the city has dumped all the old three story bldgs, put up twenty story glass and steel office towers. Sad in a way, look at the brickwork of the old ones: ornate, easy to look at, back when craftsmanship was the norm, not something you have to pay premium to get. Blow it all out, gone the heart, the soul of the place and sterile monoliths in place of.

Take on Denver: city trying hard to be alive, the capitol of Colorado, doing OK, alive and well in spite of current conditions. Observed the workers, service types like clerks, waiters, counter help. I picked up on the same vibe as Cali, scared, a level of fear and worry not quite concealed. They all know, can feel actually something is going on and it is wrong. Sense of impending doom, hear the thunder of hooves over the horizon, so forth. These entry-level workers commute from outskirts where the rents are cheap, an hour out, must wear nice clothes for the job and after all is said and done they break even. The girls wearing nice stuff, the skirts and the shoes, just to sell mittens in the mall, guys in suits to clerk at an insurance office. But grateful just to have a job. Oh, and been at entry-level wages for two, three years now. Don't diss the boss or out on the street and others walking over 'em to get the job. 

I am so grateful I had a good-paying tech job. And living in southern NM, wear jeans and flannel shirts, clean or dirty don't matter. Just kept the paychecks rolling in, thank you. I would not live in a large urban area if you held a gun to my head. Pull the trigger, I wouldn't care, I ain't going there. What I see of rural Colorado is same as Cali, same as anywhere. The farm and ranch, the small towns will fare better than the hives. At least there is chance to gather food and stay warm. The cities, there is a fear vibe running close to the surface.

It was a good vacation. For The Brocker, she keeps connected to the past, those parts that hold good memories for her, she is a keeper, witness friends for 50-60 years. For me, a break from reality, surreal, managing the logistics of travel and getting around in foreign, if not hostile locations. And being with The Brocker in her joy. When she is happy I am well pleased. It rubs off ya know. I don't know how you are but if left up to me I would not travel much. Stay around home, do small things for pleasure. I don't need to see the Rockies on the horizon, so forth. The Brocker, she pulls me out into the larger world and allows me to enjoy things I would not otherwise do. It is good for me even if I don't feel the need for it. Y'know, I feel the fear too, the doom is not going away. Something is happening and it will not be good. When bad things happen there is no place like home. Home, wherever and however that manifests itself.

Ah well, I guess I might as well eat and enjoy. There will be plenty of time to be hungry later on. Return on Sunday, I like driving so these trips do hold pleasure for me if just in that. Back home Monday and I bet I haven't missed much. Perhaps a blog or two from the trip but as you may have read from Remus, for a thinking man this blog stuff gets stale. Cartoons, music, goofy stuff does it for me. I guess that's why there were so many comedy movies in the 30s. They lived wretched lives, they went to the movies to escape. Heck, even nickel beers and the local polka band was better than documentary looks at how the world is tumbling.

Alright, some grit, wash away the sweetness of it all. This is life, after all, not Disney. Oh, and Chicago is not filling up with metrosexuals the way Denver is. Hard to take pansies in flannel shirts.  



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