From the west side...

there is life, we have noted such. Lone wolves, deer packs, and the odd cougar (not the one with tight jeans) will cross by the 7 foot fence they put up on the river bend. They meekly try to rush pass without being sighted, that is until they hit the highway. They try to take a small leap and bound and usually there is a travesty. 1 out of 7 is sure to be unlucky.
Perhaps it's because they have just torn up half the side of the lake to build a new Movie Theatre/ Shopping all Extravaganza like they have in the big cities. Because going that extra 10 k across town is menial..when really, we could have one right here.

The owls are displaced. Going into shelters. One thing I am happy about, is we sure know how to take care of our homeless.....pets. Meanwhile the tourists and tax payers get irritated by the human garbage and the threat they leave, you know..by just being there and being homeless...it scares them. Meanwhile they have no grasp on reality and not everyone has a garbage disposal and not everyone wants one. No one needs one.

So into a brighter light..sustainable living is what i hope for in this community, after i bitch stomp a few in the face/neck.

I will most definitely let my human shit in the park, and tell your dog to clean up after my mess.

The Art of Watching Alcoholics Die through A Lotto Window of a Small Local Bar in Westbank

When Neil's wife died, we all looked at eachother, as if it weren't possible that Neil surpassed his wife.
How could Neil live. That drunk!
It happened again. Weeks later.

Roy died.
Lively, vital, and British.

When the new girl told me Roy died, all i could see was Neil wavering at the bus stop, waiting to cross the street, holding on for dear life. If a wind were to blow, Neil would go.

Busses passed. Lotto's were won. Roy died. Neil was there, leaning to and fro, waiting for the 21 Night Route, with his Phymatous rosacea  in place. I pretended i didn't see him. Other regulars from the shop honked at him. He never budged.

The functioning alcoholic.
The non-functioning, the one who should have left.

Its sad, if Neil died, people would say "Oh, bummer....it was a matter of time" and no tears.
it's like he wants to be dead.
Roy wasn't like him at all.

And in the meantime all the waitresses are talking about the shit Jay-z concert they went to.

myself, too concerned with maybe having a spatial infection...tried to care less.

Small town party.

jager bombs, big trucks, fake titties, dumb, crappy musicians, mall fashion, pub food, illiteracy.

i'm thinking "slaves" as i stock the beers. Like i could ever cry.
This shit.