At the Eagle Creek post office, where I was sent without warning soon after arriving at the Circle City office, my supposed original assigned station, after a week of running routes from the Oaklandon station, which technically falls under an Indianapolis address while seeming to lie in a different state, country, possibly even dimension, in a deep muddy gash of another universe, a woman I‘ve never met pointed me to a casing cubicle and told me not to bring back any mail, and when I got to the desk there were stacks of mail from yesterday in addition to the heavy load for the day, along with 106 packages, for a route I’ve never done in yet another part of the city that surely doesn’t exist independently of me but materializes out of black fog as I approach and move through it like old computer rendered background graphics in some crude boxy pixelated nightmare puzzle game, Silent Hill post office edition, or, alternatively, a subaltern introcolonial part of an imperial city that does exist all too independently of me, revoltingly so, as a heap of brutally juxtaposed corporeal excreta and signifying chains, medieval sci fi villages and coiled and constrictive snaking subdivisions.
"The world isn’t nearly as homogenized and banal as people who stare at computer screens all saying the same thing seem indefatigably fond of saying, but that isn’t necessarily cause for relief."
Ah that hit me where I live. Thanks for this. I am still reeling from how you made dog turds poetic.
Sounds about right. Glad you found another adventure to write about. The mail job would have certainly ended in your limb-ripping demise at the jaws of feral war dogs.
'two free range pitbulls circled me, howling and snapping. Somehow I got to my van before they mauled me.'
Made me laugh and remember my time as a postie in the UK. One street in particular, Windmill road and its pack of dogs.. the ankle biter that is, the Jack russell, the most vicious. Refused to deliver to that road until the situation changed!
Zero false romance here. Well frickin done
Much appreciated, Daisy
"The world isn’t nearly as homogenized and banal as people who stare at computer screens all saying the same thing seem indefatigably fond of saying, but that isn’t necessarily cause for relief."
Ah that hit me where I live. Thanks for this. I am still reeling from how you made dog turds poetic.
It’s my pleasure. At some point you see enough dog turds and you have to give them a polish
"the heights of the postmodern sublime"
Ride the chaosmos! I love KITSCH and am not ashamed of it. It's the human potential as the New Agers say.
Except for AI Slop.. this is a sad case
No need to be ashamed, Enfant. I like some of it, too, especially in pastiche
Beautiful piece, CC. Thank you for your service.
Sounds about right. Glad you found another adventure to write about. The mail job would have certainly ended in your limb-ripping demise at the jaws of feral war dogs.
Feral war dogs might still claim my life in the end, but I'd like to lower my odds
😊
Tudor Park. Not to be confused with Park Tudor. That's a whole 'nother bucket of cats.
I'll take a bucket of cats over a bucket of dogs any day
'two free range pitbulls circled me, howling and snapping. Somehow I got to my van before they mauled me.'
Made me laugh and remember my time as a postie in the UK. One street in particular, Windmill road and its pack of dogs.. the ankle biter that is, the Jack russell, the most vicious. Refused to deliver to that road until the situation changed!
Yeah I skipped whole relays when dogs were loose. Not taking chances
Your writing makes my brain spark. It is a treat to read. Thank you Caleb for a fascinating ride.
“I was tempted to drive the LLV through the side of the building.” 😂
Thank you, Murph *salutes*
Thank you, Frank