Gods of the Garden
Maybe my last blog was a tad harsh. But damn those bicyclists are annoying.
I got nothin.' Damn tired. Didn't do a thing all weekend and it was ... blissful. Can't explain it. I did make it to the community garden on Sunday morning since I got this text from my friend D:
"R U here or R U queer? - Gods of the Garden"
Who could resist that from one's queer friend? So I texted back and said I'd be there in 20 minutes. Which was quite a feat considering how enormously dirty my hair was (baseball cap!), that I was still in bed when I got the text, and the garden is 10 minutes away without traffic (and there's always traffic, goes without saying).
So, the community garden. It's a cool thing. It was started the year I was born...basically it's just a bunch of 15' x 15' plots that a person tends. It's free. Plant what you want, but no trees. Which is actually okay because there are many avocado and citrus trees there anyway. The hitch is getting a plot. Takes a bit and you must volunteer some time. So that's what I did on Sunday morning. My volunteer activity consisted of chatting with gay men (there are three types who go to the community garden: Russian old-timers, gay men, and hetero yuppie couples), chatting with a Russian oldster - "look at my leetle tomatoes!" - and pulling oodles of these little bulby onion-y thingies out of the ground. But I'll get my plot someday. Someday. And then I'm going to grow a pumpkin! And a watermelon the size of my head! No, not really. No pumpkins or watermelons.
What else can I ramble about. Gotta say. Hooked on that new "Sex on Fire" song by Kings of Leon, which I'm listening to now. I like Kings of Leon because they sound like some old random rock band from the 80s. Which is why I loved the Darkness. Hey what the hell happened to the Darkness?
Alright, I give up. It's 9:35 p.m. and I'm going to bed. Damn you, PMS.
I got nothin.' Damn tired. Didn't do a thing all weekend and it was ... blissful. Can't explain it. I did make it to the community garden on Sunday morning since I got this text from my friend D:
"R U here or R U queer? - Gods of the Garden"
Who could resist that from one's queer friend? So I texted back and said I'd be there in 20 minutes. Which was quite a feat considering how enormously dirty my hair was (baseball cap!), that I was still in bed when I got the text, and the garden is 10 minutes away without traffic (and there's always traffic, goes without saying).
So, the community garden. It's a cool thing. It was started the year I was born...basically it's just a bunch of 15' x 15' plots that a person tends. It's free. Plant what you want, but no trees. Which is actually okay because there are many avocado and citrus trees there anyway. The hitch is getting a plot. Takes a bit and you must volunteer some time. So that's what I did on Sunday morning. My volunteer activity consisted of chatting with gay men (there are three types who go to the community garden: Russian old-timers, gay men, and hetero yuppie couples), chatting with a Russian oldster - "look at my leetle tomatoes!" - and pulling oodles of these little bulby onion-y thingies out of the ground. But I'll get my plot someday. Someday. And then I'm going to grow a pumpkin! And a watermelon the size of my head! No, not really. No pumpkins or watermelons.
What else can I ramble about. Gotta say. Hooked on that new "Sex on Fire" song by Kings of Leon, which I'm listening to now. I like Kings of Leon because they sound like some old random rock band from the 80s. Which is why I loved the Darkness. Hey what the hell happened to the Darkness?
Alright, I give up. It's 9:35 p.m. and I'm going to bed. Damn you, PMS.
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