federal insipid stupidity activity
An Open Letter to Streets That Are Non-Supporters, and an Ode to Macondry
Published Friday, July 13, 2007 by Bones | E-mail this post
Dear Union Street, Filbert Street and most of all, Taylor Street,
Thanks for nuthin!
Sincerely,
Bones
Macondry Lane, on the other hand, was the only saving grace of an otherwise terrible evening. I was hopeful when I stumbled into the tree-shaded, cobblestone alley with whole bunch of apartments tucked away. And that hope was well-founded, because only people on that calm, secluded lane decided to become members tonight.
On Union it was so loud, I was not surprised that people didn't want to come downstairs, or open the door. On Filbert I hit a section where there were many people that spoke no English. Taylor, however, was the place where I was called an Asshole, One of the Bad Guys and that I should get the F*ck off of His Property. When I left, wishing him a polite good night, he replied that I, instead, should have a Bad Night.
Really? That's what he wanted, Mr. Taylor? It seemed to me that instead he was projecting the dismal night of sadness and boredom he was about to have. His wife was quite nice and polite when I spoke to her, initially. She declined, I thanked her for her time as she shut the door, and then I rang the next bell. He really didn't have to come downstairs and interrupt my conversation with his neighbor. I had already moved on and would not be bothering him again. But he really didn't like that the ACLU had defended Al Sharpton, and he wanted to let me know it!
The creepy thing was him staring at me out his front window about an hour later when I was back on that block doing callbacks on addresses that had not answered, or asked that I come back later. Obviously, his door I would not be knocking on again.
His aggression definitely got my heart pounding a bit, but in the end all I could do was feel bad for him. I was nothing but polite and left as soon as he became agitated, but the rage I felt coming off of him made me wonder if he was about to take a swing. But he was old and small so I knew that probably wasn't going to happen. It wasn't a pleasant way to end the my first sweep of those streets, and the night didn't improve much from there.
Really, Macondry was the only nice part of the whole shift. I ducked back into that Lane during my callbacks, and I noticed right away how cool, quiet and sedate that shaded little lane was. Lu would demand a house there. And I'd be okay with that, too, I think!
Well, tomorrow is Friday, and I have a feeling there are a shitload of people out there just itchin' to sign up. In fact, I'm sure of it. Look for me on the street, I'll be spinning a clipboard, waiting for your signature and support. And if you say no, that's fine. I've heard far worse.
Oh and speaking of, there's 2 stories from last Friday that I have to remember to write up. Hilarious moments in the Castro. Pure awesomeness. Last Friday I only made $10. I'm hoping for a lot more tomorrow!
Thanks for nuthin!
Sincerely,
Bones
Macondry Lane, on the other hand, was the only saving grace of an otherwise terrible evening. I was hopeful when I stumbled into the tree-shaded, cobblestone alley with whole bunch of apartments tucked away. And that hope was well-founded, because only people on that calm, secluded lane decided to become members tonight.
On Union it was so loud, I was not surprised that people didn't want to come downstairs, or open the door. On Filbert I hit a section where there were many people that spoke no English. Taylor, however, was the place where I was called an Asshole, One of the Bad Guys and that I should get the F*ck off of His Property. When I left, wishing him a polite good night, he replied that I, instead, should have a Bad Night. Really? That's what he wanted, Mr. Taylor? It seemed to me that instead he was projecting the dismal night of sadness and boredom he was about to have. His wife was quite nice and polite when I spoke to her, initially. She declined, I thanked her for her time as she shut the door, and then I rang the next bell. He really didn't have to come downstairs and interrupt my conversation with his neighbor. I had already moved on and would not be bothering him again. But he really didn't like that the ACLU had defended Al Sharpton, and he wanted to let me know it!
The creepy thing was him staring at me out his front window about an hour later when I was back on that block doing callbacks on addresses that had not answered, or asked that I come back later. Obviously, his door I would not be knocking on again.
His aggression definitely got my heart pounding a bit, but in the end all I could do was feel bad for him. I was nothing but polite and left as soon as he became agitated, but the rage I felt coming off of him made me wonder if he was about to take a swing. But he was old and small so I knew that probably wasn't going to happen. It wasn't a pleasant way to end the my first sweep of those streets, and the night didn't improve much from there.Really, Macondry was the only nice part of the whole shift. I ducked back into that Lane during my callbacks, and I noticed right away how cool, quiet and sedate that shaded little lane was. Lu would demand a house there. And I'd be okay with that, too, I think!
Well, tomorrow is Friday, and I have a feeling there are a shitload of people out there just itchin' to sign up. In fact, I'm sure of it. Look for me on the street, I'll be spinning a clipboard, waiting for your signature and support. And if you say no, that's fine. I've heard far worse.
Oh and speaking of, there's 2 stories from last Friday that I have to remember to write up. Hilarious moments in the Castro. Pure awesomeness. Last Friday I only made $10. I'm hoping for a lot more tomorrow!