Tag Archives: Baltimore

Sunday Night Sublimity

18 Mar

I love when life provides a beautiful “moment” when everything blends perfectly and I am keenly aware that my soul, heart and brain are exactly where we all need to be. Do you know what I mean?

For me, this usually happens when I see something inspiring or have a life changing experience. For example, one time I was standing on the Cliffs of Moher in Ireland, taking in the beauty of the sea and rolling hills and it was overwhelmingly wonderful.

It happened last night, but in a different sense. My boyfriend and I were sitting in my car, seat warmers getting our buns nice and toasty, and he was telling me an awkward boner story. We were both draped in St. Patrick’s Day lighted necklaces…

 

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…and for some reason Michael Bolton was playing…

 

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“Here I am,” I thought to myself, “having a tingly ‘moment’ while listening to this story about an awkward boner experience and we have on these lighted necklaces and for some reason Michael Bolton is singing ‘(Sittin’ On) The Dock of the Bay’ and he sounds kind of angry about it and when Sean and I get inside we are going to eat the f-bomb out of some delicious cupcakes and I wonder if he would still kiss me if I was wearing my stick-on orange mustache that my boss bought me for St. Patrick’s Day and hey, you know what? I’m happy.”

And then we went inside and ate those cupcakes and he said he would kiss me if I was wearing that orange mustache, but I didn’t make him. Not yet, at least. I’m gonna whip that thing out one day in like the middle of summer so I get mustache sweat or something and then he’ll have to kiss me because he said he would.

When’s the last time you had a “moment?”

Charm City Heroine Versus Junkie

3 Oct

Every now and then, a charm city chick might find herself crouched on the floor behind her bed, waiting for the police to arrive. It’s in that moment she realizes the only person she really has is herself, so she better get her dull knife ready in case she has to stab a bitch.

She focuses on her breath as she hears the intruder’s footsteps get louder. For some reason she is steady and unafraid. She smiles and wonders if maybe Baltimore should be considered a training course for the zombie apocalypse (our silly heroine has a habit of making jokes to herself during serious moments).

When the police turn up, she discovers it was just the neighbor’s junkie son trying to break into the wrong house. No big deal, he’s cool most of the time.

Or is it a big deal?

This was her fifth call to the police in four years. Most people don’t call the police that much, but she often finds herself observing or being a part of very odd situations involving very odd people–usually in the John Waters sense. Despite all the laughs she gets from these characters, she doesn’t always enjoy living in Baltimore, especially when she’s in danger or things get out of hand.

Why does she stay? Well, it’s interesting how family ties might keep a heroine in a place she doesn’t want to live.

Little does she know (okay, she knows) that soon she will be invited by the story’s hero to try somewhere and something completely new. He has a few things to take care of first (you know, hero stuff). When he finally asks her to come with him, it is advised that he arrive on a magic carpet and be prepared for a duet.

Just saying.

 

 

Will she then accept his offer? I wouldn’t know. Until we find out, someone should probably buy that girl a better knife…and a large suitcase.

Ginger and Big Tweety

8 Aug

Four years ago, when I first moved to Baltimore City, I lived in Butcher’s Hill with my best friend, Kelli. There were a number of characters in our neighborhood, but my two favorite white trash locals were named Ginger and Big Tweety. Those two were always out causing some kind of trouble. Sometimes when I walked by I would throw a fake gang sign and if they said it wasn’t a real gang sign I would be like, “It is too. It’s for a new gang I made up–you guys can be in it if you want. Girls only.” They always shook their heads at me, unsure if I was being serious.

One morning at 4:15 am,  I walked a friend to his car that was parked five blocks away (god forbid anyone ever find parking anywhere in this city).

When I returned to my street there were two seedy figures frantically scratching at the lamppost in front of my house. I was nervous until I realized it was just my neighbor Ginger and her girl Big Tweety. Tweety’s real name was Trina, but she was hefty and regularly sported a gorgeous stonewashed denim jacket with Tweety Bird on the back and a Tweety Bird denim bowling bag as her purse–so naturally, Ginger called her Big Tweety.

This is what used to be written on the pole:

Ginger ♥s Jamaal
Fuck All Bitches and Niggas. I Love him 4EVEr Always.

 

While Big Tweety worked diligently to cover this expression of true love, Ginger was writing something else. I got bold (was wicked drunk) and asked, “What happened to Jamaal?” and Big Tweety calmly replied, “He dead.”

Ginger said nothing.

I felt really bad about it. “Oh, oh my god, I’m so sorry,” I kept apologizing to her, but soon realized she didn’t care all that much because she was writing this:

 

Ginger ♥2 david
(Looks like someone got a little excited and wrote that ‘s’ backwards)

 

Four years later, we remember Jamaal and all he did for the neighborhood, including the time he lit a bag of poop on fire and chased a kid with it and that other time he went door-to-door asking if “anybody got any weed.”

Rest in peace, Jamaal. We hardly knew ye.

Haiku–Charm City Style

4 Jun

Thank you Elliot (brainsplats.wordpress.com) for the Versatile Blogger Award. I wrote him a haiku about Baltimore and then forced four scientists to do the same because Elliot enjoys both the occasional haiku and the HBO series The Wire. I wrote the last one. I didn’t give specific instructions, making this a little more interesting than I thought it would be.

 

Haiku–Charm City Style

W. North Ave, 1100 blk. Photo taken by my friend/the creator of charmcityvacancy.com

Perfume to my dog.
Loves to rub his face in it,
dog park, human poop.

Danger is at hand.
Street-walker prowling about
as I am harassed.

Rushing to our cars,
the thrill makes us feel alive.
Locked doors, safe again.

Scattered chicken bones
stranded along the sidewalks
of west Baltimore.

“Don’t be afraid, babe,”
he says, holding a syringe.
I walk more briskly.

 
Normally I don’t do awards, but if I did, I would give this prestigious award/shoutout to Madame Weebles because she is a funny, sarcastic, smart lady and I like her taste in hot dead guys. Also, Mr. Weebles is from Maryland, so he is probably a hip dude.

How I know I need a vacation.

28 May

My house is in a very “unique” part of Baltimore called Hampden. There are characters everywhere and sometimes I sit alone on my porch, watch them and think to myself, “What the fucking fuck!?!”

Well, yesterday I was outside weeding and overheard one of my “unique” neighbors talking on the phone. He has a raging boner for me. I kind of enjoy that fact (not many dudes have a raging boner for me), so sometimes I walk outside, bend over to pick up my paper, smile and say something cute. He usually replies with something that reminds me that he has a raging boner for me and I get disgusted/secretly enjoy it and then I move on with my day. Have I mentioned, by the way, that I haven’t had sex since 2011? Because I haven’t had sex since 2011.

Anyway, yesterday I was looking forward to messing with him, but he wasn’t paying attention to me. Suddenly, I heard him say,

“O win lil sexee an’ me wint downy oshun citee it took frevr t’git uvr de Baybrij”

Translation: “When Little Sexy and I went to Ocean City,  it took an extended period of time to drive over the Bay Bridge.”

Who is ‘Little Sexy?’ I thought to myself, is he over me? 

Then he hung up the phone and called her name. “lil sexee c’mere!”

I stood and watched, waiting to see who exactly had stolen the heart of my white trash possible future husband. His 6-year-old daughter then skipped outside and he gave her an adornment of noogies. I sighed with relief, which was followed by utter shock that I even cared in the first place, which was only then followed by the realization that the man nicknamed his daughter “Little Sexy.”

I need to go on a date with a real man and take a vacation to a far away place, people. I’m not letting go of my class just yet!

Believe

19 Apr

Springtime in Baltimore.

Power lines sway, neighbors greet,

Helen turns tricks in the sunshine,

a syringe rolls by my feet.

 

My lawn is an ashtray

and home to a stray weave.

The junkie next door beats his wife.

One word. Believe.

 

It’s printed in black and white–

as if things were that clear.

Perhaps I just need to get laid, but…

24 Feb

Baltimore is just not turning me on these days. Look at this mundane, lifeless lab. I’m editing a paper about T cells. The only sound I hear is the humming of a centrifuge. This feels like the longest day of my life.

This science lab does not turn me on.

I’m sick of dead grass and brown buildings. I’m tired of seeing prostitutes, crazy people and sidewalk syringes.

I could use a stimulating conversation. Switch me on. Give me visuals. I want colors and life.

This is where I was 7 years ago….

Scotland turns me on.

Now that’s sexy. Even just the memory of this place flushes my cheeks and fills me with light. It makes me want to run as fast as I can and use the full capacity of my lungs. I want to scream loud and hear my echo. I’ll be back for you, rolling hills, and you better ravish me just as you did upon our last meeting. Or else.

Until then, I guess I’ll just have to use my imagination while I search ever so desperately for some Charm City inspiration.

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