Meloncholia
unusually cool today. Around 75. Damn cold, almost. Just right for a bike ride through Downtown Tulsa. My bike is an old Schwinn Continental 10-speed. Blue. OLD. The front rim is bent slightly and the rear wheel is missing a coupla spokes. The tires are on more borrowed time than Bin Laden. The seat would be more comfortable if it were a rock but that might appear strange so I wrapped it with an old towel secured with electrical tape. Only slightly effective. I wore my geta which interlock with the pedals nicely and the soles become huge pedals.
It's about 1:30pm
I head down Riverside towards the old 11th Street bridge. It always fascinates me, that bridge. Derelict structures usually do. The wind seems against me even as I turn onto Heavy Traffic Way, which is misnamed. Across the tracks I make a right on Archer. The "A" in The GAP Band. Some homeless guy is sitting on a turned-on-its-side trash barrel. This is our walk of fame. I pass by DEADTOWN TAVERN, the owner of which, whom I've had many good conversations with, was recently beaten to death by a steel pipe-wielding psycho. Across the street is the "Kermit" building. That's what we called it when I was working at the Brady Theater. It's green. It almost burned up when two winos inside passed out while trying to roast a cat for supper and their mattresses caught fire. I shoot over to Brady St. and see that my old watering hole isn't open yet. Caz's. Good bar owned by a real stand-up guy. He opened a restaurant right across the street from the bar. It's closed, too. I hope it does well. I make a right and go up the bridge straddling the tracks. At the top of the curved bridge is a spot many here call "The center of the universe". The spot is a circular pattern of brick and you stand in the center of the circle. Everything that comes out of your mouth will echo smartly. Step just a little off center and the effect is gone. A coupla yards further is the Union Depot, a gothic, art deco building in grey stone that belongs in a Batman movie. One directed by Tim Burton. Make a left and head toward Arnie's. Another good bar. It's open but I don't go in. I turn around, again facing the wind. Can it blow both ways like that? I guess if our grandparents can walk uphill both ways the wind can blow both ways.
Smack dab in the middle of downtown. It looks like a miniature city that a model railroad runs around. Why? Something's missing that shouldn't be. People. No one. Anywhere. Everything but Arnie's is closed. All these new restaurants, clubs, bars, delis, little convenience stores and flower shops. ALL closed. It's like this every Sunday. I stand in the middle of the street and just stand still. I like to feel the adrenal surges in my stomach from the creepiness of all this vacancy. The wind, still blowing both ways, carries no sound of voices. Nothing. Just two-faced wind. I continue on toward Nelson's Buffeteria but the old vertical neon sign above the entrance is gone. Is it shut down? It, too, is closed on Sundays. I didn't look in the window long enough to see if they were shutting down for good. When I just steal a glance through the glass, its Winter. Years ago. The face of a woman I was nuts for looks back.
I keep riding. I'm next to Orpha's lounge which is ALWAYS open and it is today, as well. It's the seediest, most feared-by-yuppies bar downtown. I don't go in. No money. Many haven't even heard of this place. Most of those that know of Orpha's have never been in. I have. I like it. I don't know if I'd go at night, but during the day it's actually pretty fun. EXCELLENT juke box selection. I notice an apartment is for rent above the bar. Now THAT could be interesting. I'll investigate later.
I make my way back, against the wind, of course. All the while thinking about how much more fun it would've been if everything were open. I could stop every now and then, sit outside, have a sandwich and a beer, and watch the people walking by. BUT, as I've been saying, everything's closed, no people, and I got no money, honey.
I get my bike up the stairs and into my apartment. I sweep the window blinds aside and look out across the river. "It's only right that it's so cloudy." I think to myself as I let the blinds seal out the grey light for the rest of the day.
It's about 1:30pm
I head down Riverside towards the old 11th Street bridge. It always fascinates me, that bridge. Derelict structures usually do. The wind seems against me even as I turn onto Heavy Traffic Way, which is misnamed. Across the tracks I make a right on Archer. The "A" in The GAP Band. Some homeless guy is sitting on a turned-on-its-side trash barrel. This is our walk of fame. I pass by DEADTOWN TAVERN, the owner of which, whom I've had many good conversations with, was recently beaten to death by a steel pipe-wielding psycho. Across the street is the "Kermit" building. That's what we called it when I was working at the Brady Theater. It's green. It almost burned up when two winos inside passed out while trying to roast a cat for supper and their mattresses caught fire. I shoot over to Brady St. and see that my old watering hole isn't open yet. Caz's. Good bar owned by a real stand-up guy. He opened a restaurant right across the street from the bar. It's closed, too. I hope it does well. I make a right and go up the bridge straddling the tracks. At the top of the curved bridge is a spot many here call "The center of the universe". The spot is a circular pattern of brick and you stand in the center of the circle. Everything that comes out of your mouth will echo smartly. Step just a little off center and the effect is gone. A coupla yards further is the Union Depot, a gothic, art deco building in grey stone that belongs in a Batman movie. One directed by Tim Burton. Make a left and head toward Arnie's. Another good bar. It's open but I don't go in. I turn around, again facing the wind. Can it blow both ways like that? I guess if our grandparents can walk uphill both ways the wind can blow both ways.
Smack dab in the middle of downtown. It looks like a miniature city that a model railroad runs around. Why? Something's missing that shouldn't be. People. No one. Anywhere. Everything but Arnie's is closed. All these new restaurants, clubs, bars, delis, little convenience stores and flower shops. ALL closed. It's like this every Sunday. I stand in the middle of the street and just stand still. I like to feel the adrenal surges in my stomach from the creepiness of all this vacancy. The wind, still blowing both ways, carries no sound of voices. Nothing. Just two-faced wind. I continue on toward Nelson's Buffeteria but the old vertical neon sign above the entrance is gone. Is it shut down? It, too, is closed on Sundays. I didn't look in the window long enough to see if they were shutting down for good. When I just steal a glance through the glass, its Winter. Years ago. The face of a woman I was nuts for looks back.
I keep riding. I'm next to Orpha's lounge which is ALWAYS open and it is today, as well. It's the seediest, most feared-by-yuppies bar downtown. I don't go in. No money. Many haven't even heard of this place. Most of those that know of Orpha's have never been in. I have. I like it. I don't know if I'd go at night, but during the day it's actually pretty fun. EXCELLENT juke box selection. I notice an apartment is for rent above the bar. Now THAT could be interesting. I'll investigate later.
I make my way back, against the wind, of course. All the while thinking about how much more fun it would've been if everything were open. I could stop every now and then, sit outside, have a sandwich and a beer, and watch the people walking by. BUT, as I've been saying, everything's closed, no people, and I got no money, honey.
I get my bike up the stairs and into my apartment. I sweep the window blinds aside and look out across the river. "It's only right that it's so cloudy." I think to myself as I let the blinds seal out the grey light for the rest of the day.
posted by Deri at 7:56 PM
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