Stilt Mentality – 14:55GMT

Let me impart some wisdom here, o merciful captors of the highest order. Considering that you’ve let me flap my gums unabated, I probably don’t need to request your permission, but I do like to exercise my manners from time to time. Anywho, brown nosing won’t get me anywhere anyway.

Instill the stilt mentality, walk higher than most without extensions and greet the lovely beings who used to be just out of reach. Examples include, but are not limited to: squirrels, crows, sparrows, cardinals, pigeons, and the occasional parakeet. On one particular occasion you may think you’ve run across a raccoon, but after fifteen minutes of observing how it hasn’t moved one iota the entire time, you come to the conclusion that this minuscule member of the bear family is just an elaborate trick of light.

Your stilts are strong, able to withstand a wide range of climatic changes until deep Winter sets in. These stilts–and most other stilts out there–do not fare well in the bitter frost snap you might find as a local of Chicago or Fargo or St. Paul in those early months. Do not–let me insist–do not inhabit such weather on stilts–at least this particular model–or your quality of life will rapidly diminish, possibly ending in personal extinction.

There is nothing inherently wrong with wanting to embody a certain ideal for height consciousness in the frigid playground, but beware! Each second exposed to the short days’ elements removes three seconds from the potential remainder of your life. Always ensure that you are carrying a stopwatch with you.

Do not trust my words. Do not trust a single thing I’ve said to date.
Is this all for naught?
I really wish I could use my arms.

Mag Mille

Mindfully traversing Michigan Avenue on a Monday afternoon means encountering a dizzying array of points along the human spectrum, details your average commuter may ignore or just miss altogether as they continue along their quest for a life worth living easier–easier than what, I’ll never know.

An elderly lady relegated to a wheelchair wears a sour puss as she munches on a processed snack still halfway-ensconced in its wrapper. Two feet away in a stroller that places him at the same eye level sits a toddler, working away at an orange wedge that has likely been primed and prepped by his mother, though I wasn’t present when the handoff took place. For the moment, she’s standing several yards away with a selfie stick, capturing an image of the frivolity she’d once taken for granted that now slowly slips from her clutches.

An unopened sleeve of saltines rests its weary crumbs against a street lamp whose daily duty has yet to be fulfilled, two very unlikely partners on a sidewalk where beggars apparently can be choosers.

Occur? Of Course

I stave off depression by laughing at all those small things one would normally dismiss as mundane and otherwise unfunny. A crack in the sidewalk shaped like the silhouette of Walter Mondale; a pigeon that unwittingly traces three invisible clockwise circles with its waddling; a skyscraper hiding and reappearing as cloudcover waxes and wanes. Did these phenomena actually occur? Of course they did. Was I there to observe them? Anything’s possible.