Weeknotes: October 28 - November 1, 2024

Monday, October 28

I had a good hair day yesterday. Even better, I was at a party and friends witnessed it. You hate to waste a good hair day. Today, my second cup of coffee tastes like spring, though it's not even November yet. A lot of seasons still to cycle through. On WCBN it's clearly spooky season. Shriekback, Bauhaus, 45 Grave. It's a nice little commute and I pull into campus with Peter Murphy hurling Latin incantations out my windows. 

Later I light a fire and start triaging which potted plants will come inside for the winter. Wearing leather work gloves, I use tweezers to carefully extract dead leaves that have blown into my mess of cacti. I like winterizing a yard, it's satisfying work. I say goodbye to RR who moves out Apt. 2 tomorrow, taking Pretzel with her. I've become very fond of that little three-legged cat. 

Tuesday, October 29

There's a going away party for a co-worker at a Mexican restaurant by the mall. I pull in behind a white Mazda whose license plate reads DK___HD. It doesn't look like a normal vanity plate; the three characters in the center are darkened out so only the ones on the sides are visible. A confident bald man is driving, owning it.

Inside are about a dozen of my colleagues, most of whom I don't get to see very often since the bulk of us shifted to remote work. It's festive; Taco Tuesday and happy hour, a double threat. Around the ceiling's perimeter toy train tracks thread through little tunnels and dioramic alcoves. A wooden trestle spans the host stand with two inflatable Corona bottles perched atop it. I want to see the train, but leave before it departs.

As I pull out onto the busy street a man is dancing on the median. I love that. It's hard to feel bad when someone starts dancing in public. I'd like more of that. I'd like to be that. How do I begin? It's one of those warm, blustery fall days that sends reluctant leaves on their way. At home I carve my pumpkin, set it on the front stoop, and roast its seeds. I go for a minimalist face. Two round eyes and a round mouth. Occasionally I'll carve something more elaborate. Once I did the Van Halen logo and it’s been tough to beat. 

Wednesday, October 30

It’s another impossibly warm late October day as I set out on my errands. When I pick up my concert posters at the local print shop, the clerk offers a nice compliment. That feels good. I tell him I'm taking graphic design classes at the community college and he says he dropped out of that same program years ago. I'm proud to have already stuck it out through over half a semester. I've been school-averse for decades and it's a big deal for me.

The glow is short-lived, though, and I’m exhausted as I head into Ann Arbor. I even consider pulling over to just shut my eyes for a bit, but it's only a 15 minute drive. I park in Kerrytown across from Braun Court. They've demolished one of the buildings across from Eric's bar which now stands vacant. The once bustling courtyard looks like a warzone. Only the tattoo shop still seems to be in business. I regain a bit of energy as I walk around town, enjoying the evening sun and putting up posters in shops and on light poles. I've flyered this town so many times during my career. Sometimes it's a slog, but today is nice. I end at the venue, North Star Lounge, which is pictured on the poster. 

On the drive home, the weariness sets back in. I have to detour to Lowe's for a bag of potting soil. It looks surprisingly desolate when I pull in. The lawn center is closed off and a small row of early pre-decorated Christmas trees lines the facade. Inside it feels lonesome too. It's full-on Christmastime, but there are almost no customers. I have to hit Target too and head across the road to the other row of box stores. A woman in the parking lot is reaching up into a maple tree, pulling its bright leaves into a plastic bag. When I step back outside, a vast sherbert sunset has descended over the parking lot. I pass a Target clerk admiring it with her camera phone. "It's definitely worth a picture," I say. "It 100% is," she replies. As I drive away, the woman with the leaf bag is plucking from a different tree.

Thursday, October 31

I put on the Ghostbusters soundtrack while making coffee in the dark. I'm on a news radio fast and Elmer Bernstein's jaunty score seems Halloween-adjacent. I'd considered the Shaggs or the Cramps, but not at this hour. Out on the porch, a squirrel has eaten part of my jack-o-lantern's right eye, giving it an arch expression.

Around 5:30PM the wind gets theatrical, just in time for trick-or-treaters. No one comes to my block, so I spend the evening at my brother's house in lively Normal Park. I stop by Scott's to give him a ride and he lugs a large suitcase into my back seat. Its contents are later revealed to be a full chain mail tunic, helmet, fur cloak, and a real sword. He looks like Boromir. Jamie serves us a hearty beef stew and rustic bread and we eat like hobbits. I am an un-costumed tourist, which is fine. Scott serves candy from a large plastic cauldron; he's a big hit with kids and parents alike. Later, on the way home, he asks if I'll swing by the liquor store where he buys a box of Franzia wine and some rap snacks. He stands behind a man dressed as a Cheetos bag, looking like a temporally displaced knight enjoying the fruits of the modern era.

Friday, November 1

November and its magnificent evening skies. Daylight savings ends on Sunday which means these will start to happen at 5PM. After dinner at a local vegetarian restaurant I shuffle through drifts of dry leaves and make my way downtown. Galleries and shops are open for First Friday. The experimental photography show at 22 North is banging. There are three pieces by Detroit photographer Millee Tibbs that draw me in with their crisp gelatin print landscapes and custom geometric frames. I visit with Sean at Wyrd Byrd and we discuss runes, horror folk, and early voting. On my walk home I stop by Cold Comfort, Eric's new ice cream shop, and buy an excellent smore-like treat called Don't Marsh My Mallow. I eat it on the steps of St. Lukes. I think of Robyn Hitchcock calling his father an "architectural Christian." Ypsi has some lovely old churches, but St. Lukes is my favorite. I note the sign on their front lawn advertising an upcoming gun destruction event and nod in approval.