Pink Pony
About this time last year, PG was following the effort to create a city of Brookhaven. It was a nasty affair, with racially charged mailers, legal complaints, and enough mud slung to cover the Capital City Club . The effort passed, the city was created, and J. Max Davis elected mayor. PG was disgusted, and quit paying attention.
It turns out one of the first moves by the new city was a prohibition on “the serving of alcoholic beverages at a nude dancing establishment.” The intended victim of this move was a large dancing emporium known as the Pink Pony. The PP is one of the larger adult venues in the Atlanta area. The club can afford lawyers, and has filed suit against the city. The ban on alcohol sales will not be enforced until courts rule on the suit.
This lawsuit is going to be expensive to defend. While considering whether, or not, to create the new city, there was much speculation regarding finances. Some said the city was going to have enough money to operate. Some were renaming it Broke-haven. The studies that showed the new city could function used the revenue from the Pink Pony as part of the tax base. These studies probably did not consider the double whammy of losing that revenue, and fighting an expensive legal battle.
The Pink Pony is on Buford Hiway, at the southern fringe of the new city. Some say the boundaries were drawn to include this establishment. PP is in a business district, far away from the mansions of historic Brookhaven, and the mcmansions of Ashford Park. PP is down the hill from Cross Keys High School, which should enable teachers to get part time jobs as exotic dancers.
Pictures today are from “The Special Collections and Archives,Georgia State University Library”.
A Summer Memory
It is 3:15 am in a midtown office building. PG is spending his dinner break in an unused cubicle, almost out of speaker range for the break room tv. A flourescent light fixture is hard at work, playing an essential role in the drama to follow.
Thirty seven years ago, Truman Capote spoke in Athens GA. Before taking questions, he read “A Christmas Memory.” There was a line, with the words oh, and carnage, that got a big laugh.
Wednesday afternoon had been the first time to turn on the window AC unit. Outside, it was over ninety, with the Georgia humidity doubling the effect. The next two months will be miserable.
During this early morning dinner, after the first day of summer megaheat, PG is reading “A Christmas Memory”. An old lady, and the seven year old cousin she calls Buddy, are going to make fruitcakes. They need to buy supplies.
The previous summer, someone gave Buddy a penny for every 25 flies he killed. “Oh, the carnage of August: the flies that flew to heaven”. It is now 3:28. In two minutes, it will be time to go back to work. Pictures today are from The Library of Congress. The fruitcake lady was the aunt of Truman Capote.
Red Shirt
The man was talking when PG got on the train.
The man was talking through the three stations that PG quietly rode through.
The man was talking when PG got off the train.
Midtown
The neighborhood along Peachtree Road has always been a great place to be a freak. For a long time it didn’t have a name. It is north of downtown, between Piedmont Park and Georgia Tech. Sometime in the early eighties, people started to call it Midtown, and the name stuck.
In the time after the War Between the States, this area was a shantytown called “Tight Squeeze”. It evolved into a pleasant middle class area. In the sixties, hippies took over. The area was known as the strip, or tight squeeze. Many stories could be told.
After the flower children moved on, the area went into decline. Gays started to move in, with the battle cry “Give us our rights or we will remodel your house”. Developers, worshiping the triune G-d of location, location, location, began to smell money. The neighborhood became trendy, then expensive, then more expensive. The freaks with money remain. Pictures are from “The Special Collections and Archives,Georgia State University Library”.
Surrender Dorothy
Should we surrender here?
We are charged with illegal thinking.
The punishment will be severe.
Lets go back to Buford Georgia.
The charges there are shoplifting.
Mugshots by Gwinnett County are more flattering.
Summertime And The Riding Is Easy
During the time between Memorial Day, and the day Elvis died, the sky is light enough to ride long after suppertime. Around the Summer solstice, daytime heat is such that most sane people stay in the air conditioned shade. It is only during twilight that the outdoors is fit for man and beast.
A bicycle is a great companion for these times. When you go uphill, your muscles clench and relax, your lungs hoover the magnolia scented air, and your heart goes plump plump plump. Many bystanders only see the face of the rider, which may appear to be in pain. Often, the face is playing the martyr, while the heart is delirious with joy. Once you reach the top, you get to ride downhill.
On this day, PG rode past a house that was closed for repair. In a trashcan was the sun bleached remains of an American flag. The flag had been placed in the yard, by a realtor, as an advertising gimmick. PG was offended by the shabby treatment of this flag. He pulled it off the pole, put it in his bike box, and rode on. Pictures are from “The Special Collections and Archives,Georgia State University Library”.
Confession
Esoteric
The must include word in a monday morning writing contest is PEDANTIC (adjective). This key word is rendered, as always, in all caps. Keyboard communicators have the same opinion of all caps writers that sidewalk based pedestrians have of street preachers. Even if you agree with the message, the medium is too tacky for words.
The writing contest prefers that you use third definition option of this key word. Today, the preferred usage of pedantic is UNIMAGINATIVE; PEDESTRIAN. It is again presented in all caps, with a fig leaf semi colon keeping the peace. This must be an archaic dictionary at work. Today, the unimaginative thing to do is hop in the car, and burn fossil fuels to get where you are going. The enlightened method would be to walk, or to be a pedestrian.
This post is named esoteric, in honor of pedantic’s bff word. (Spell check suggestion: antiseptic’s buff) No one ever accused esoteric of being unimaginative or pedestrian. In tenth grade, PG had a drill sergeant english teacher. One day, the class was discussing “The rocking horse winner,” by D.H. Lawrence. It is a terrible piece of work. One young lady asked the teacher why anyone would write something so esoteric. The teacher had never heard of esoteric, and was enchanted.
Pictures are from The Library of Congress. The first time these pictures were used, they illustrate a poem, Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow. It was foisted upon the unsuspecting public by a facility known as Cyber Recovery. This is not pedestrian, this is runner… you will want to run away.
Topple The Paradigm
the simple life poster had nerve
they used all caps
some letters were bold
the thing was a mess
to topple the paradigm
use one font only
pictures from the library of congress.
Watering Hole Story
PG and his neighbor DA went out to drink beer and shoot pool. The destination was a place called the Watering Hole. The Watering Hole used to be a VFW. There was a TV repair store next door. When the county legalized bars, the VFW went somewhere else. The TV repair store became the game room. You could see on the floor where the counter used to be.
This was a weeknight. The other customer was past his limit. The drunk was fussing at the bartender when PG and DA walked in.
PG got lucky and hit a good shot on the pool table. He got a bit cocky, and said “and now for my next trick”. The drunk staggered into the game room, and lay down on an empty pool table. DA replied, “Is that your next trick?”
Before long, it was time to go home. As PG and DA were leaving, the drunk was arguing with the bartender. He wanted to buy a twelve pack to take home. The drunk won the argument, and started walking up Clairmont Road with his prize.
PG got a block or so away from the Watering Hole. He saw the drunk sitting in front of a seven eleven store. The drunk was sitting on the curb, drinking a beer. PG drove in front of him, and stopped the car. DA got out, and walked over to the curb. She picked up the eleven pack, and walked over to the car. Her pace was deliberate. The drunk stood up and yelled obscenities. The car drove away. off. This is a repost.
Leave It To Beiber
does beiber sound like itself?
like smash bash
swish or slash
zappa might sound like itself
if it were alive
pictures are from
Gwinnett County
which does not sound
like a traffic jam
Chamblee54 
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