Inside Doug's Head

I am not a number, I am… What's that stuff they make glue out of? I'm that. Forever swirling, forwards and upwards, but always sticky. Sometimes, a little sad.

I live in Bronx, NY. We moved here about six weeks ago. I walk to work every day, except on the days that I don’t go to work. It is a scenic and smelly venture filled with various scenes and smells. I thought I would document my diurnal (die-urinal, actually) sojourn so that others may share in my…oh, forget it. I can’t make it sound fantastic. It’s just a bunch of pictures that I took as I walked to work this morning. After looking at a picture, go stick your face in a truck-stop toilet bowl to get the complete sensory effect in 3-D smell-o-rama. It has been really warm with 95% humidity lately, so that really adds a touch of total awfulness to the experience.

My morning starts with yelling at the delivery a-holes blocking my driveway. It’s a good thing I don’t own a car anymore.


Heh, heh. Golden Flow. It sounds like a urinary tract infection. I think they are one.



These weirdoes have wandered down from the rehabilitation clinic that is stuck to the side of my house. They are sitting and having a cigarette on my neighbor’s step. I will shoe them away as I pass, with my shoe. I don’t think you can rehabilitate ugly.



This is the view of the western part of the Bronx/Riverdale area that I see as I round the corner heading down the street.


There is a sign on the fence.




I don’t know what bothers me more: the rats or the poison. Poisoned rats always make me think of Chinese food, and Chinese food makes me think of Bruce Lee, and look what happened to him. I must have some sort of a psychological thing.



This image looks like a nice treed walk from back here.

As you get closer, though, the smell of open sewer really starts to hit you. I don’t know where the smell actually comes from. Asses, I guess, butt whose?



There are signs like this one everywhere.


Followed everywhere by signs like these:


But, especially this…


There is dog poop on the sidewalks everywhere. I guess dogs can’t read the signs. Or, maybe they can afford the fines, with all that dog money they have. I wanted to get pictures of dogs pooping while their owners pretended to not notice, but they all seem to get shy when you point a camera at them.PoopInABag I can’t go when someone is watching, either.

And I don’t think this is what you are supposed to do with it once you have it bagged. Dropping the bag in the street sort of defeats the purpose of picking it up in the first place. Although, the owner humiliation factor must be pretty high. Mmmmm. Smell that aroma. I said smell it!



OK, so now I am at the top of the stairs that connect two ends of W 238 St.


And, at the bottom of the stairs…


Surprise! Even more garbage. It blows around all over the streets and sidewalks; the air is practically filled with it. In American Beauty they tried to make a grocery bag floating in the wind look like something spiritual and graceful. It’s just garbage and it’s really gross. Sport DU RAG, oh, yeah! Have you noticed how most of the garbage isn’t plastic grocery bags?



The intersection, here, is quite busy at this time of the morning and it is a really good thing that there is a crossing guard on duty who is diligently paying attention to the wee ones dodging between cars operated by retarded drivers ignoring the walk light.


Oh, wait. I see her, now. She’s yacking with an acquaintance way over there. She is a credit to her uniform.



Through the fence, looking North, you can see the Major Deegan Expressway (I-87). I think the fence is there to keep the cars from getting out. Some mornings it looks like just a lot of vehicles that aren’t going anywhere. Make up your own clever simile.


I am almost to my destination. This is the W 238 St. station for the 1-train. Underneath it is Broadway, but at this end of it, the only cats you will see are strays.


As you cross Broadway, the noise from the trains running above is very loud. Lots of screeching and heavy clunking, exactly how you would imagine a train passing over your head would sound. Here is the sign that you have made it out alive.




This is not Broadway, but a street that is off Broadway. Way off Broadway. It is waiting for its chance to be discovered. If it can make it there, it can make it anywhere.

My work is just one more block away.



And flu shots for all. Flu shots, get your flu shots! Get your vacunas contra la gripe hoy! Covered by most insurance plans, just not yours!

I always get vacuna and lacuna mixed up. Something seems to be missing…



Watch out for this guy. He’s always messing with me. Awww. What a cute rabies vector.


Now, see this building?


Take a closer look.


I don’t work here. My office is across the street from this building. That is why I can see it as I am about to go inside.


Just to make the circle of life complete, when I finally return home at the end of the day…


There is yet another turd parked in front of my driveway. It is a good thing that I can walk to work, otherwise I would have to.


2 thoughts on “My Walk to Work

  1. Tom Arias says:

    I ran into the rabies vector as well. Marc, Jesse and I got into a fight with that lil guy…

  2. Tom Arias says:

    I ran into the rabies vector as well! Marc, Jesse, Brian and I got into a fight with that lil guy…

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