Trying to Cope

I can't say for sure, but according to my hip, I jogged about 5 miles of sidewalk looking for my roses this morning.

While I jogged, I pictured heart breaking scenarios in the context of "where could they be right now?"

Maybe the fucker who took them was toting them around on a crime spree, to -like- impress them.

Maybe the dirty bastard was using them to freshen up.

Or maybe they'd already been sold into sex slavery.

Having burned through most of the morning, I jumped in the car to cruise the rich neighborhoods.

30 houses in, I got stopped by the Redmond Police.

It's block watch weekend (or some shit) and I heard at a block watch... thing... that Redmond averages 2 burglaries a week.

I wasn't speeding or anything -I was casing houses- but I "had a break light out" (not really) and the officer wanted to pull my card.

I'm cool with that.

Speaking of RPD, is Officer Hovenden ever going to fucking age?

This guy's been on the force for EASILY 15 years and he still looks like he could nail every barista in town.

The officer who pulled me over asked where I was going.

I told him what was up. "Someone uprooted my roses so I'm rolling through the neighborhoods looking for them."

I was anticipating him telling me that I'm not at liberty to reclaim my roses if they're planted in someone else's yard... yet he didn't.

But we both sorta know, now that I've been logged as hungry for street justice, I'll kinda need permission from the thief to liberate my roses or I'll be running the risk of getting pinched for an actual crime (as opposed to stealing my roses from the trail, which was not really a crime).

Even though Redmond Police are really cool across the board, they'd still have to find, arrest, and help prosecute me if they got the call.

So... huff.

I posted fucking signs.

I posted one to get your attention.

And the other one is the pity party.

The Sign reads:

A world absent fences is

A world absent those

who would uproot

blooming roses,

planted for all to love.

(And then there's an arrow pointing everyone to the hole left behind by the shit-tard miscreant who stole the roses.)

Seriously Guys????????

Yesterday, I was so stoked to see that my roses on the trail had taken on this EPIC pink color. They are just amazing.

These past few days, the highlight of my jog has been to stop by and smell them until I get a head rush.

They smell SO fucking good!

This evening, as the sun was setting, I rolled up to love them, just as I've been doing on every jog since mid march. I honestly believed that these roses would never bloom. I don't know if you're aware but the trails are a really hostile environment to plant something that you plan to love.

And... So it goes... Mother Fucker, What the Fuck!!!!!!!

I've known for fucking months that I could've been setting myself up for heartache. I figured that a deer might punish it, or that aphids would infest it, or perhaps some fat little kid would pick the blossoms and yuck my yum.



But... Fucking Shovel Marks??????

When I came upon the scene I had an instant Warp Spasm and went sniffing out the sick fuck who dug up these dope roses.

In the twisted logic of the criminal mind, it is a victim-less crime to steal blooming roses, planted for all to enjoy.

And, I deduce they used a bucket to transport the loot because there were no fallen rose petals to be found in the surrounding area.

I hit the streets, casing every front yard between 166th and Meadow Park.

It felt like this.

I didn't find my roses (yet), but I happened to note that there are roses planted in every other yard.
They're everywhere.
Here's some from my yard.

I understand that roses are not some precious commodity in major demand, but Time, Work, Love, Selflessness and apparently RISK, went into nourishing these roses and I'm just so fucking disappointing in you.

You, the thieving renter, who stole my roses and will probably plant them in the shade... Fuck you, and clean up your dog shit!

You, the out of town guest who is going to grind my roses into some Slavic Jam/Preserves... I hope your family gets fucking botulism.

You, the selfish piece of trash, who plans to brag at your next bbq about how you salvaged wild roses from the buffer... I hope you pricked your finger on my thorns and an infection festers to the point where you have to retrain your hand in order to resume touching yourself.

You, the sweet old lady, who assumed those roses would get more love in your back yard... you are so fucking wrong.

What the fuck you guys. Seriously! What the fuck.

-Neighbor out.

Well...

I guess the proposed plan for this utility pole is to have it just lay beside the trail and stink.

In Bloom

Look whose roses finally bloomed!!!!!

I counted down the days to the last frost and planted these in march.

I planted them under one of the utility fences so that the grounds crew wouldn't mow over them.

It worked.

But, some hostile force decimated the leaves and buds in the last week of May.

To which they replied "fuck that."

I don't know if the spider that lives here had anything to do with their revival, but she can stay.

Boom!

Off the Trail; TC4

Tent City 4 concluded their 3rd stay at St. Jude's.

Taking these snap shots felt like a huge invasion of privacy. I gave a pal a tour of education hill, and asked him to bring his camera to take some pictures for a project. I sorta just threw him into taking these. He had no idea what I was planning when I walked him to this areal view point.

"Are we going inside the church or something?"

"No, we're just..." I muttered off.

I got quiet and put my head on a swivel.

"Aww, dude!" he whispered. "Are you trying to make me take pics of tent city?"

"It's cool." I said in the most assuring voice. Then I waved him on. It was a dick move but you're looking at them too.

I like having tent city on the block. The bus stop gets pretty busy, and I don't know if anyone else noticed, but there was a guy who could juggle a foot bag like no other. Even from my rear view mirror this guy was impressive.

I'd like to think that there will be less cigarette butts on the trail now... but I'm betting the prick, marb-light smoker is still on the hill.

Clowning

I'm not sure if I like the tall grass - on the trail - better than the clipped grass, but I'd say it was a nice stroke of luck that I got to take this picture just days before the grounds got mowed.

I made cardboard armor and reenacted the final scene from Gladiator.

"Are you not entertained?"

Bummer

Here's a photo essay.