ttt + computer

Here I am, Jokerest Park, Festus, MO. From here, a wooden bench under a pavilion, I see the roads around. Trucks, cars, bikes, people with strollers, puppies – to and fro they go, and I look on curiously, sometimes analyzing their every move.

Ahead of me, a Pickle Ball game. As is the case every night. The stadium lights come on, the temps cool, and I puff a pipe and sip coffee in silence as the paddles and K Swiss sneakers slap, and clonk, and thud across the courts. The meager smoke I let off sometimes escapes the darkness, drifting into the glow of the stadium lights ahead.

The women are beautiful. 20-something. Many of them. Short skirts, spandex, tight jogger shorts. Giddy and bright, they shine and play competitively. Like the bulb from the lights above, as the bugs flying in the light therein – ambiance and energy.

I give them nick names. Red Skirt, Full Pink, High Tee, other aliases for me to remember which is which when they return night after night to improve their sportsmanship.

My stance doesn't change – an old, chain-smoking, soon-to-be Warrentonite, crass and bold as the truckers and rural jerks I will soon be surrounded by.

With night falling, engines roaring to a plateau at 9PM, and the bugs falling in numbers as the temp drops – 75°, 65°, 58° – I layer up in a sweater and beanie. Packing pipe after another – thinking of times but also just Right Now. Loving and lurking the IRC and online forum world, I practice a bit of this observance into the AFK Space, as well