October 2001 Archives

I stepped off the Hop and looked quickly to find somewhere to sit and put in the newly purchased Kodak 400 Tmax film into my trusty Canon AE-1 (Program, that is) outside the Crossroads Mall, which used to be the epicenter of consumerism. That is, before a brighter, shinier mall a few miles down the road opened up. A few problems had already cropped up for this little trip; I wanted to take some indoor photos, but my flash had broken off the camera one day, leaving parts of the hotfoot stuck onto the top of the camera, parts still attached to the now, useless flash and a few little parts left on the carpet, either swept up, vacuumed or consumed by a bored dog.

The mall was faily quiet for 4 pm on a drizzly weekday, the mall is always fairly quiet. So quiet that most of the big names of the mall have abandoned it entirely, leaving almost half of the mall barren. That's the half I was interested in.

I once saw this part at a figure drawing session that takes place in one of the abandoned shops. A door was left open that connects to the main strip of the mall and I peeped in to find what I can only describe as a sad time machine. It seemed very still and isolated. A few papers and pieces of trash on the floor, some old store signs hanging up, lots of plywood and duct tape keeping everyone out. I wanted now to get back in. Where else am I going to find good picture taking material?

My wardrobe consisted of grey pants and a black hoody. I kept the hood over my long, blue/purple/green hair and played it cool as I probed each and every service entrance of the mall. surprisingly, none of them were locked and most were wide open, and all of them had spray painted on them "Keep Closed At All Times". I decided that if I looked like I belonged in there, everyone would believe it. Of course, I stepped lightly and didn't make much of a effort to make friends with the various employees of the Pretzel King and Foleys. You can find some crazy shit in those access halls; The skateboard/snowboard shop had merch that was just shipped to them just stored in the halls. Every store has a door to the access hall. How hard would it be just to open the door, grab some loot and race to the getaway vehicle? Just food for thought. I was there to steal some light onto my film that's all.

I thoroughly studied most of the access halls and couldn't find a way into the old part of the mall, the part cut off from the rest of the stores and really, forgotten. I was too high, the old part was to the south and the new part starts on the second floor and I was much too high. I walked down to where the figure drawing sessions are held. Those classes were actually pretty weird. I never drew a male model and all the figure drawers were male. I did these things for months. I wanted to try the door that I first peeked through, but walking into the middle of a figure drawing session with a camera and nothing to draw with, doesn't work. Although, I thought this would be a good cover. I could always use whatever was in my backpack to draw with if I ever did meet a security gaurd.

I poked around farther south, checked doors (all locked) until I came upon a property management company that was clearly removed from the rest of the establishment. The door was unlocked, so I let myself in. The door led to a long hallway that turned left to another long hallway made out of plywood and mason nails. Every door that led into the mall had it's doorknob knocked off and bared at the bottom. Damnit. I started with the camera action and took some shots looking into the holes left when you have a door with no doorknob. Not what I wanted. I wanted the prize in the center.

I came to a dusty stairwell and went up a few flights till I met up with police tape and, more dust. I passed the police tape and came to a room being redone. Lots of cleaning supplies, vacuums, things like that. Not very exciting, but I was clearly in the building, although I could see most of the mail below me and I wasn't in the right place to get in. Upon entering the room, I heard a very nice 'beep beep' and noticed what looked like a thermstat. I made myself believe it was a thermostat and those 'beep beep's were normal sounds for thermostats to make.

I did some exploring and snapped some shots of various graffiti work and random things. I wanted in. I had the picture all set in my mind. I had my 28 mm lens ready to take a gazely shot of the entire hall, barren and lonely. It was going to be my project. I thought about bringing props, like a doll or a toy, or maybe a sale flyer.

I got out of the area and cited it as a dead end but a good first try. I got most of the way back from where I was and heard voices and footsteps. What the hell, don't these people know this is an abandoned building?! You're not supposed to be here! I booked back into my new favorite room and got my camera out and focused onto the door. I thought if I was going to go out, it would be in a burning flame of glory. Security people surprsied to see me with a camera taking pictures, security people taking aim, thinking I'm shooting a gun, security people scared to hell that they shot an unarmed college student. What a sick couple of prints that would be. the voices died down and I heard a few more 'beep beep's from the 'Thermostat' and explored some more.

>

I came to another hall and another door. This one was open, so I let myself in and immediately heard voices, so I immediately hauled. I then saw a sign with an arrow pointing to the door saying 'Mall Office' Great. I led myself into being caught. The entire place was plastered with 'This is not a mall entrance' signs so I couldn't really blame stupidity, well. I only took about 12 pictures but thought it best I go. Too much time in one area, I'm too easy to spot in a lineup... although I guess getting arrested for trespassing/burgulary would be a good excuse for an extension to do the same, only this time in Denver somewhere, I opted to leave.

I walked south some more and the dead part of the mall started to be blocked off by a chained linked fence. A truck was coming towards me with a flashing yellow siren-type light. This could be one of two things; a tow truck . . . or security. It turned out to be security and there I was with my dumb camera and dumber look on my face. They slowed down and came to me and then, passed me and parked near the entrance I just came out of. I passed the south western corner of the mall and booked to the park on the other side of the street. I would have hated to be caught for nothing in particular.

I walked to the skatepark thinking I'd burn some film with high flying airials and the sort by local stuntmen. The park was full of puddles and no one really looked that into it. I left after seeing a few tricks and walked to the town pool, which was somewhat drained and very off limits.

Right by the pool is the town's athletic office. Empty pools in the fall look creepy and I wanted creepy shots, so I weighed in the idea that I would almost definetly get caught filming in the pool and getting some shots for a project I should have started weeks ago. Getting the shots won.

Climbing the fence proved difficult, since my right palm has most of it's skin torn off from a recent skateboarding accident. I just remember that day I was pissed cause I wanted to hold this girl's hand and now I fucking can't. Life does that to me constantly.

I hopped into the drained pool and skirted around and about it, doing my best spy impression, thinking the athletic office was some sort of gaurd station with communist soldiers with my profile memorized and instructions to shot to kill. One can dream. This pool has a gigantic slide on it, looking truly like a monster serpent. More so with a 28mm lense. I would be lost without that thing. God bless Canon for making a camera that I could huck off a cliff and be sure that the timer still worked. Snap snap snap and I was out and onto the little playscape next to the pool. I took one pic of a little girl, one of the only human subjects of the day and made it a day, a little washed out day it seemed.

I went urban exploring to do some investigating. I found ugly, ugly things made by humans. I found that humans like to make ugly things that then rot and decay. I found these ugly things everywhere. I started hating ugly man made things. I plan to take more pictures of them though.

alex simoni. very late. very tired.

Self Portrait, 10-8-01

Walking outside the health food store, i step inside the automatic doors and a voice yells in my direction, not at me, but at the person in front of me, a thirty-soemthing guy with blond dreads down to his back and sunglasses on, sunglasses on at 8:30 pm. Sunglasses continues to walk inside the store, but I stop in confusion and turn in the middle of the entrance way to see who it was. A scruffy, rejected man I recognize is sitting there with someone else I didn't. The man I recognize is like a statue, big, towering, a Native American, I see him on Pearl Street; sad face, strong body, an alchohilic as much as I can tell. He directs his gaze from Sunglasses, whose trying to make him invisible, with a distant recognition just enough to think that he knows me, that he's seen me before and I've been friendly.

"Hey", he says in a low tone from his deep throat, "Hey it's you! It's my birthday! I'm 49!"

I remember seeing this same soul in the same strip mall area, a week or so before. He probably yelled the exact same thing to me and appeared just as drunk to me as he does know. The time before, he told me about his family, how he's a US Marshal. He showed me his wallet for proof. All his children are in the military, how he's chief of a tribe near where the four corners of the states meet.

"Hey", he murmered loudly again, "Hey, hey, hey, hey, I'm, I'm", I have to come out clean and say I forgot what his name was, my mind, somewhat sharp earlier on, was now somewhat untuned, but after the 'Hey, heys', he goes, ".... but some people call me Coyote." (smile)

So goes Coyote.

His accompiant then yells, "No Shit?!, it's your birthday, mine's on the 22nd, put it there, brother." They give each other a stern handshake and look at me. I try to lay my dry witty humor and point out that my birthday is in April, October being about as far as April as months get. "Ah, an Aries", the hobo shaman states.

"Yes, the 19th, the last day of Aries."

"I know I have, have," studdering, "I feeling of that, you know, I'm, I'm", touches his heart, then his forward, then using his same hands to gesture to me, "spiritual like that."

His partner sort of nods and smiles a goofy smile. He's dressed as one who would venture to a health store often and who sits down with wise men in strip mall parking lots. His clothes are all of natural colors, autumn hues, hiking boots, wild, but, just mannered enough hair, some sort of fall vest or sweater or light coat. Everything looks new and together.

I'm wearing an ex girlfriend's zipped up hoody (black), an Extra large t-shirt with the old school Apple logo on, some Doc Martin pants, and skate shoes. My hair is a very very faded blue-black, more of a blue grey or green grey, depending on if you're looking at my roots or my ends; in the back or the front. Somewhat like very old cotton candy, left over from a carnival and awaiting to be devoured by a loose band of dogs or a family of ants. My fingernails have chipped and worn black nail polish on them as I'm transforming myself into a rock star for the time being.

Autumn Colors wrestles with opening a container of ice cream he bought at the store and pours a tanish/brown powder he chopped up from something I missed with a plastic knife.

"Got to get my vitamins, you know, you need your vitamins."

He must have bought natural vitamins to go with his natural ice cream with the plan all along to combine the two for dinner.

"Hey, hey", Coyote slurrs, "How bout you, how bout you, how-", (pause), "After you get out of the store, you, you...", his eyes are gazing again at the door that Sunglasses was at, where I was heading, somewhat in a rush, his finger is now pointing at it, then to his heart, then touching my shoulder, "How 'bout after you get out you help me with... whatever you can."

I knew Coyote from before and I knew he was kind and I definetly knew I'd see him again. I have a faint rememberance of seeing him at the old, metal and blue skatepark. So I agreed.

"My names Barret" Autumn spoke up, completely out of place, then he spelled it out: "B-A-R-R-E-T"

I shook his hand and told them both my name was alex and Coyote decided he'd call me 'J' from now on, since that's what I was probably called everywhere anyways, I agreed but thought that that wasn't really true, that everyone really did call me alex, except my sister who seems the trip over Chri-, then Jaso- until hitting the target at 'alex'.

"I'll be right out, see you in a bit," and I was in. I went into the store to buy a muffin to eat while I drank some late night coffee and read. I had a muffin from this same store the previous day, with Mark and thought another muffin or two would make a fine dinner, perhaps as good as ice cream and powdered vitamins. I had a French pastry from the store next to the one I'm in now this morning before saying goodbye to Mark who was flying back to Indiana and a Veggie Hot Dog on Pearl Street at around 2pm. I was hungry.

They didn't have the Jumbo muffin I was after, the one with all sorts of seads and rasins and walnuts and was more like trail mix and flour then a muffin, so I opted for two, smaller ones. I stumbled for a bag, twirled around and almost hit a very attractive store employee. I wasn't frightened, but I felt a bit, high or drunk or out of place. I haven't been the same after my last long term relationship ended and wasn't quite in the mood to give it another chance at this moment, being unshowered and holding two muffins in a bag. But I gave the girl, who was about my age, a huge smile - so large as to make myself nervous and a walked straight to the checkout line.

I fumbled through my wallet to make sure I had enough money for the muffins, for coffee later and give something of worth to Coyote. I digged through my wallet and found a single, gold coin. I flipped it over and examined it carefully. I couldn't place where I had gotten this coin. Usually you receive these as change when buying stamps or for the light rail in Denver, but neither one of things have I done in months. The color was this very dirty gold, the face had a Indian or a women, depending on how I thought about it. It fascinated me. I was mesmerized.

I put the coin back into my wallet, paid for my muffins and kept my change in my left hand to give to my new/old friend and fastitiously made my way out towards the exit and the coffee shop. I had been working ten hours on a Sunday to keep bills at bay and looking at a small, blury screen filled with bright windows and widgets tires my eyes and patience.

I walked towards the benches outside the store to find the two that were there just a few moments ago, but they were gone. Completely gone. I found the top of Autumn's ice cream container and that's it. I looked around in a circle, as if someone was speaking my name from a distance, in concentration and felt absolutely puzzled. I had the craziest idea that maybe I had been looking at that coin in the market for longer than I thought, hours at least, flipping it in my hand, feeling the bumps of the low relief portrait, cleaning off the grime, admiring the details, the colors, the novelty of it, like a small child and a rattle, just studying this coin, this pretty, mysterious coin that was in my wallet.

I couldn't tell what time it was from my surroundings, the fall night makes the world dark early and this shopping center has fast food restaurants open till 3 am. I slowly made my way to the coffee shop on the other end of the plaza and tried to piece together how I was feeling. Mark had found me asleep, but with eyes open one morning. I remembered the feeling of being asleep but still aware of where I was and what was going around me and how I was asleep in one instant and awake in another. Just this afternoon my coworker pointed out how well rested I seem to look I almost didn't believe him and felt just beat and worn, even on a Sunday. I didn't think of Coyote Chief or how he slowly touched me on my shoulder or his birthday or his money I was going to give him.

All I felt was this sensation of being above myself and looking down at the parking lot and just myself standing still and stoical, facing towards the coffee shop that may, or may not be, open.

alex Simoni Monday, October 8th, 2001, 12:54 am

[epilogue?]

I looked in my wallet and pockets after typing this out from my notes later that night and couldn't find any gold coin.

Self Portrait, 7-13-01