Notes from the Perimeter: Horses & Snowmen

I stalked the streets of Pasadena, the sounds of Baby’s in Black thundering into my ears over and over and over. The call, that call that would Lift me from these years of wandering, placing my Soul into Safe Harbor and out of the Chains of Despair, hadn’t come. Or wouldn’t come. It didn’t matter.

I walked.

Oh dear what can I do?
Baby’s in black
And I’m feeling blue
Tell me oh what can I do?

I shifted my hat so that blinders curved down over my eyes like a thoroughbred primed to race into oblivion, Hell’s own colt deprived of nourishment and bent for the long haul into the Void. The edge. Perimeter talk, indeed.

Then I saw it.

The hips swelled and swayed gently in the dusky breeze. It was one of those animatron lifesize mannequin forms in the shape of snowman. It wore a skirt adorned with Polynesian decorations. The face was adorned with cheap sunglasses, the kind with green frames and a string, which sat upon a plastic carrot nose.

The eyes were dark and stared at me and I started in my racehorse ways but kept approaching so that it wouldn’t back me down. It couldn’t, it wouldn’t. It mattered for reasons only the void could chuckle deeply and knowingly of.

I then had the urge to sink my crumpled fist into the face of that snowman, writhing sweetly with pain as I crushed any future opportunity of marketing and otherwise success with my half-mad deed.

But I didn’t. I could, but I wouldn’t. I walked some more, and later felt the better for it.

Tell me oh what can I do?