Friday, August 12, 2011

The Dispatch From Escalatorville: Exit The Dragon Edition

If one should find oneself strolling past an official-looking, yet semi-gruff gent working on the innards of a city parking meter; resist the urge to put on your best Edward G. Robinson impersonation while exclaiming "Ah Ha! So that's how they do it!"

Trust me on this one.


Stories From The Retail Wasteland
A gal in a cobalt colored frock sauntered about the store at which I work, as we listened to the "60's" station on the satellite radio. Mitch Ryder's 'Devil In A Blue Dress' began to egress from the speakers, causing said girl to egress herself from the shop with exuberance.

Admiring some replica oriental coinage for sale, a child in the shop turned to his father-
"Ooh! Can I get some? Then we can go to China and buy things!"


Working in a tourist heavy industry as I do - I often hear these plaintive cries from sons and daughters trying to gain momentary/monetary attention from their vacationing parents. Some pleas sound a little too well-rehearsed (It's a long drive to Florida). My favorite of late:

"But I even washed my hands for in case we get fudge!"


Good Luck, kids.

Semantic Antics
What follows is an actual quote, from a woman whose lack of depth and/or perception provided an odd statement regarding the science of depth perception:

"Horses act that way because they think we're bigger than they are."

I can't recall my exact reaction to that one. I think I probably gave up the look that the Lovely Bess describes thusly:


"You look like you just got your teeth worked on - and then punched."


Paging Edgar Allan...
If you're a cinefile, or just a curiosity seeker, and happen to be near the Capitol Hill neighborhood of Seattle - I recommend perusing the grounds of Lakeview Cemetery. Therein, you can find the concurrent resting places of martial arts superstar Bruce Lee and his son, tragic, cult-classic hero, Brandon.

The graves themselves are relatively easy to find, but, if you are slightly oblique and prone to rambling - as I was during my first visit - you may find yourself with an unexpected guide.

I'd certainly admired, but hadn't ever fixated, on Bruce Lees works - the way some have, and I think I'd watched Brandon's star-making turn in 'The Crow' only once - at our local second run theater - a little while after it's initial release. Despite the films overwhelming popularity at the time, I was not ( and never became) engulfed in the intrigue surrounding the film or the supernatural sheen its story lent to its lead actor.

{Brandon Lee's premature and brutal death during the filming of a role in which his character also dies a premature and brutal death -and is subsequently "resurrected" with the guidance of a mysterious crow, has brought the movie a fair share of its cult and occult following}

Having spent nearly 30 minutes wandering the parameters of that massive boneyard (which, admittedly, does have a time-stealing view) - I had yet to find the sites I sought. I decided that meeting the Lees could wait for another day.


My eyes headed toward the gate, my footsteps followed. Then, it happened. I heard a berating "Caw! Caw! and glanced upward to see a silky, blue/black bird skim the sky inches above my head. A crow - an honest to goodness crow - the namesake of the younger Lees leash to eternity - had appeared out of nowhere, catching my attention while nearly scraping my scalp. My gaze followed as it sped past me and onward another 20 yards or so before taking it's rest - on the dark granite headstone of Brandon Lee.


Bewildered, I followed the crow to the resting place of "The Crow" - reading the inscriptions at both graves, noting the mementos left by adoring, and still mourning, fans.


I stood in awe for a few moments, until a carload of admirers pulled along the road beside the dual memorial markers. I wanted to share my story with them - but they exited the vehicle with such glee ( as much glee as gothically dressed fanboys can muster), that I thought they would either be too gobsmacked to speak- or would ridicule me for what reads as a fairly unbelievable story.

It wouldn't be the last time I paid a visit to the Lee Family's home of eternal repose, but it certainly provided one of the strangest first impressions I'd ever received - from either the living or the dead.

The List
This edition: 'Average Occurrences Which Brighten The Disposition'
-Finding new remembrances in a film one hasn't seen in years.
("Ah! That's right, She's in this too!")
Realising that, upon returning long overdue borrowed items to a friend, that they have something of yours as well.
(Ah! So that's where that went!)
-Sleeping in on a day off. Then, in mid-afternoon, taking a nap.
(Ah! Tha...ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!)

The Age Of Embarrassment
I caught a glimpse of my reflection from the corner of my eye, Good thing too, I appeared to have a "booger" lodged in my mustache. I swiped once to remove the thing from my face. No Dice. The mirror still flaunted my entangled nostrillic asteroid. a repeated swipe. It remained. It wouldn't go.

Grasping for a paper towel - I took a closer look. the "booger" had disappeared, replaced in my mustache with an exact replica made of tiny grey and white hairs...


Don't Go There, I Already Went
I had written a piece for the finale wherein I related that "America" was an anagram of "I, Camera." This led to a disjointed ramble about our country's current state, told via various unconnected scribblings and other negligible notations.

It didn't work, came out sounding forced and relatively meaningless. I cashed out my commentary. Rolled away those remarks and burned up the babble. In short - I smoked the marginalia.


The Dispatch From Escalatorville
Proprietor, Thinker, Chief Scrawler - Z.F. Lively
Darling Editrix and Advisor - The Lovely Bess
Scooter and Bell Maintenance - Kwan C. Moto
Make-Up Artist and Sartorial Wizardry - Rosa Mungthornes
Email and Whatnot - escalatorville@yahoo.com





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