Zigzagoon Flats

Yet again, just like on the 2nd of April, someone's apparently trying to send me a message through the garbage cans out back. Yet again, yesterday, someone else's garbage wound up in my garbage can. This morning, my garbage can was tipped over, along with my recycling bin. But only mine, not the downstairs neighbour's. (The downstairs neighbor is the one who was getting blackmailed the other day by a young African-American gentleman who blamed the downstairs neighbor's pet Chihuahua, who is indeed decidedly feisty, for having caused him to break the screen on his cell phone.) I hesitate, for obvious reasons, to cast aspersions in any direction; and yet figure it can't hurt to simply observe the fact that people come and go from the back door of 113 North Broad Street rather frequently carrying black garbage bags filled with no one knows exactly what. I have seen several people do it, and then walk across the parking lot in the direction of dumpsters the next block...

Slept right through the initial launch of the Kanto event. Was getting pretty frustrated when the game led me to do something that I almost absolutely never do: cross Madison Avenue. Nice neighbourhood they've got. Brought back some happy memories just being there, seeing the house of someone who was decent, good, and kind to me when no one else would be. And not too very far away: Mocol's. Mocol's is legendary. People who shop there are *delighted* to shop there — as of today, including me. Devotees of the meat department and tobacco department (cheapest in town) wouldn't shop anywhere else. They have things there you won't find anyplace else — like Dakota Trails Sweet and Hot Beef and Pork Jerky Bits. Or Buddy's grape, orange, and strawberry flavoured soda — made in New Ulm, without high fructose corn syrup, and genuinely sweet. I must remember the name of the man who runs the place. He's amazing. It's only ten blocks from where I live (although unf...

That's what I would rename this if I could. I can't — at least, not from inside the game. That is all — for now.

. . . is likely best exemplified by simply stating the fact that I just nearly burned the house down cooking Irish porridge in the bathtub. Parse that statement howe'er you will.

It's a cliché, of course, to say that {item x} is about the journey, not the destination. But would it be a cliché, were there no truth whatsoever to it? At any rate, the sentiment did resonate with me yesterday. (So many birds!) Yesterday, I got paid. So of course, my task for the day is to go bring back cat food. Not a big deal. Not terribly exciting. If anything, potentially a chore. Yesterday being Easter Sunday, no buses were running, and many stores were closed where normally I'd shop. This is, in fact, how I prefer it: not too terribly busy. I get more than enough of unpleasant people who dislike eachother jostling together, chattering incessantly, elbowing eachother out out of place (and in the face) while madly jockeying for position to catch the discarded scraps and detritus of wealthy decadence while well-connected contractors continually sacrifice what little's left of downtown (formerly charming) on the blood altar of persistent 19th Century ideals of "...

So, yesterday two giant black bags of garbage showed up in my trash can out back. I honestly thought nothing of it, having used other's garbage cans near and convenient to me from time to time myself. This morning, I go down to take out my garbage. Unfortunately, what I find is two additional big black bags full of household waste, mostly kitchen stuff apparently, not placed in my downstairs neighbors can right next to mine, but on the ground next to my own instead. Perhaps it was being called "faggot" by the roving gang of interracial youngsters jay walking behind me yesterday from the Ridgley building to Verizon Center; suffice to say, I think someone might be trying to send me some sort of message. At any rate, I did call the police. They told me it was theft of services. I called the landlady, at her home number, where I tried to leave a message but couldn't. I called her on her cell phone, and while leaving her a message, she called me back. I told her that I ...

. . . by SMS text message to someone who's never played it and in all likelihood never will: Good morning, and happy Easter to you, too! Major game update rolled out on Good Friday and the whole community is working through what all it means and how it's gonna affect gameplay both individually and in groups. Haven't left the house yet myself but reported a tier-5 raid (Lugia) set to hatch at dork den 41 minutes from now. If a group forms for that, that'll be where I go first today. If not, the backup plan's to get cat food from family Dollar. But of course that's all subject to change on *extremely* short notice. The key is not promising anything I can't keep and keeping my promises in a rapidly changing environment based almost entirely on forces beyond my own control, including, but not limited to, (a) the game itself, (b) terrain, (c) weather, and (d) the actions of other players. It is the last of these which ulltimately are the least predictable, but a...