Discover Top Posts Tagged with #uncle scooter

Leave No Trace - scott parkinson - day 23

A phantom, I drift. Streets on which I wish I lived, Pretend it’s my life.

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maga - Uncle Scooter - day 6

We lost you some eighteen years ago this week (my father’s Facebook page reminds me). As a child I would sit in the high-backed wood swivel chairs, my feet not touching the carpet, my tiny face lit up by the flashing, rarefied gases coming from the tubes above your head. In your life you worked in the Navy, in the hotel business, at the Elk’s Lodge, and finally as a greeter at the local Walmart. But the best job you ever had, you said, was owning your own bar. “Eight years,” you said. Brandy Manhattans 18 cents for a shot of brandy (“being a good bartender you give ‘em two shots” you said), 10 cents for vermouth: “that’s a 50 cent drink I made a $1.50 profit from,” and then you told me how you’d gone into the Pizzeria Uno recently and that same drink cost $5.25. You told the manager that with drink prices like that, he wouldn’t last. Within weeks the place had drink specials and happy hours. “I get things done,” you said. The workers at Walmart always seemed so unhappy, you said. You’d ask how they were doing and they’d shrug, offer up a low-spoken, downward-cadenced, ‘I’m here’. You couldn’t believe the sadness in their eyes, you said. You wrote to the execs about it, you said. “I could give a shit if they cut two hours off my time, but these are young people, with families to feed. I mean, we get two semi-loads of crap every goddamn day and they’re cutting back hours?” You hadn’t heard back from them yet. “What do I know? Some 75 year old curmudgeon? I know a hell of a lot,” you said, “I know about taking care of your employees so they enjoy coming to work in the morning and want to do right by you. I know about making an honest buck and not ripping customers off so they don’t trust you. All this distrust building in the air. Can’t you feel it?” you said. Grandpa, you left too much broken in the world, “don’t forget me,” you said, Grandpa, you left too much undone, “don’t leave me behind” you said -

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Memory - Uncle Scooter - day 25

Does the tree feel loss? Like a fragment of its past gone, each time a leaf falls?

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Moderna #2 - Uncle Scooter - day 24

a day’s worth of torture of aching and coughing inertia and ague but on the other side a life less alienated with more certainty of touch

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The Unrequited - Uncle Scooter - day 13

One night as we lay sleeping in your bed I dreamt you took a sexy polaroid of me and then many years later when you were an old man after we’d lived separate lives and long lost touch with one another (probably because it was too hard for me) you learned of my death and you searched your papers and you found the picture and when you saw it you smiled Your whole being lit up with memory of me

I woke up the next morning and you were taking up the whole bed sprawled in the middle I watched you sleep compiling in my head yet another list of interesting possible things to talk to you about when you woke up

I wanted to tell you about the dream But I didn't

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my successful (?) attempt at haiku - uncle scooter - day 12

Write a travel book? Same Shit, Better Scenery I think I’d name it

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my failed attempt at haiku - uncle scooter - day 9

maybe one day i’ll pen an autobiography and perhaps i’ll call it "there’s only so much you can learn from a book”

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Out and Back - Uncle Scooter - day 7

There I went again head over heels someone thoroughly out of my league The same mistake over and over like a loop trail without an exit blazes unheeded Or maybe like an out and back same worn trail same footprints either direction same sun overhead same sinking feels I’m not myself I’ll try this on that might work (it never does) he won’t see me i won’t be seen How can it even be love if all i want now is your pain The keening break that’s the same too tenuous hold against the void that endless moonless night Then i recall someone saying once Oh but the trail you see it’s never the same on the way out as it is going in