Stephen Lopez
Don’t Walk
“Here’s something,” he says. “What if you were crazy into geo-location and dog poop?”
They’d just avoided stepping in a pretty respectable heap-o-turd as far as city poop goes. They’ll walk home well after dark and who wants to track city poop all up in their digs?
He don’t.
“Get the coordinates on that dog mud,” he’d told her. “It’ll behoove us to steer clear of the miasma on the way home lest we track city poop all up in our digs and who wants to do that? I don’t.”
“I give up,” she replies, reluctantly and with the sort of “Shut up, please,” sigh that most guys wouldn’t miss in a Typhoon.
“Maybe start a blog.” He’s thinking aloud.
“You would want to roll it out in iterations. You could start with simple GPS coordinates of city poops; maybe add some pictures and time-lapse video,” he says, just throwing it out there.”
“Eventually you could take it social.”
“Like comments?” she asks. “Because I have a comment…”
Comments aren’t social. Shut up.
“No,” he tells her. “Let’s say you find a series of turds that bear uncanny resemblances to Civil War battlefields. You could ask your followers to vote on which battle they would most like to see recreated on mountains of dog-butt rope and then whenever a winner floats to the top you paint faces and uniforms on a bunch of wee army men and you just blow that shit up. You could play patriotic music or have various stuffed Abraham Lincolns observing from unusually austere chairs. Pat Robertson could voice-over the whole thing. He’s available. It would be fucking wicked. Ken Burns level.
“But with army men climbing piles of dog poo on Madison Avenue and you making war sounds with your mouth?” she asks.
Okay. It sounds crazy when she says it. But then most things do.
“Exactly,” he tells her. “Could you note the idea and remind me to explore it further after this evening’s events?”
“Certainly,” she agrees. “Idiot.”
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Trelvix Safari: #318. Idiot Dialogues.
NYC
{…via trelvix-à-go-go - blurry bits of my life through phone pictures… }
I’d had this draft saved for months. It was one of the countless posts that he deleted shortly after posting it.
I’ve never been a big fan of reading. The best compliment I think I can give to his memory is that I always looked forward to reading his words.
