Come along wild flower child...
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People will quite often exclaim, with the kind of passion and unbridled enthusiasm that can only be the result of insincerity, that there is nothing quite like a sunny morning in the early spring. While I am inclined to agree with these phony pricks, I would actually take it a little further and assert that there is even nothinger like a sunny Saturday morning in the early spring. There is just something about being up and enjoying the sunshine while everyone else is still in bed, still a little drunk, but not nearly drunk enough, and cursing that infernal heavenly plasmoid for turning the blackness to blood-red when they close their eyes. And then there are the people who aren't so lucky to be restlessly tossing in their own bed, the ones on the sidewalks with their zombie-like shuffles, dried puke on their faces and rug burns on their backs, trying desperately to maintain the solace provided by an alcohol induced blackout... Those walking the 'walk of shame.'
It reminds me of one fine spring morning, some years ago, when I stumbled out of the doors of the county lockup at six AM on a Saturday. Four or five hours earlier, a police officer and myself had failed to come to terms on a slight matter of dispute between each other, and after soliciting the opinions of several other officers, it was democratically decided that, for the sake of expediently resolving the dispute, it would be best if I spent an indeterminate number of hours in the protective custody of some impartial county correctional officers. If I recall correctly, I was the lone dissenter, although I nearly convinced a passer-by to join in a grassroots movement I had attempted to organize at the scene...
In any case, I wind up on the steps of the Multnomah County Detention Center, wincing from the sun and shivering from the cold, fresh holes in my sweater, fresh scabs on my face, and a paper bracelet on my wrist with a picture of a criminal printed on it. At first I was embarrassed to be seen in such a state, but after my eyes adjusted to the light and I looked around, I realized that everyone else on the sidewalks at that hour was either homeless or hung-over, or, like me, had just been released from the pokey. We were all shuffling along, averting our eyes and considering the depths of our shame, just wishing we could finally get to wherever the hell we were going. It turns out that the 'walk of shame' isn't much different from any other walk.
Comments (6)
Yeah, Tell 'em BX. I have to confess to being a bit of a night owl and, at times, preferring to stay up late and then sleep real late - midday works for me (or did before the baby). But back in the day on those random mornings where I found myself up close to first light, whether by dint of the previous evenings festivities running long or because I actaully showed some good sense, got a night's rest and rose early, I've always enjoyed catching the day in the early hours. But it does seem you have to have sun or the promise of it to really make it an experience.
When I first glanced through your post I had no idea that the pretty pictures of flowers would lead to a "(Satur)day Morning Coming Down" story. Police Officers just never understand.
Sunday Morning Coming Down is, in fact, the song that inspired this post, but by the time I was done it didn't do the song justice, and seemed to fit Starkville City Jail a little better. Still, in this modern age there is no reason we can't have both songs on the same thread...
Johnny Cash:
Kris Kristofferson:
Johnny Cash and Kris Kristofferson:
This may seem like overkill, but this is definitely a song worth listening to three times in a row. But if you absolutely must pick just one version, go with the video. There is a little magic happening there, with the songwriter and a man who was born to sing the song doing it together.
Two of my most well remembered concerts, Cash at Carnegie Hall and Kristofferson at The Bottom Line.
Great stuff.
Mate thats an excellent peice of writing, coupled with a great tune and story by Mr Cash. thanks!
Quite a few years back the Highwaymen played here and I went because I thought they were all so old I should catch them before its too late, I walked out onto the grass at the pld rugby park and was totally overwhelmed by 4 "older" men dressed in long black coats, windy Wellington setting a scene that took me by surprise, the power of those guys will stay with me forever.
Thanks earthman. That sounds like an impressive spectacle. I envy you for getting to experience it.