#anythingforart

September 15, 2014

5:46 pm

bench in front of capitol building

This perspective is likely to get me much closer to the general public (or shall I say, my subjects) than I have been previously.

  The bench I am occupying the left half of sits directly off the sidewalk to the left of where I was the day the police came.

  There are two middle-aged men walking in stride from the left opposite me. They both wear similar-colored blue shirts, dark pants, and dark shoes. They turn left on the same side of the street and continue down towards the rest of the mall.

  The “se” in “Cheesecake” is still missing its illumination.

  A young guy on a bike just rode past me so close that I probably could have pushed him over with my foot if I was so inclined. The sound of the thin rubber ties over the bricks with miniscule rocks in between crackled satisfactorily.

  Another young guy just passed by the same way wearing a peach-colored t-shirt and a green backpack. He was somehow reading the newspaper without falling flat on his face which is quite impressive. He travels onward to the right, passing bicycle boy who waits to cross the intersection towards the Cheesecake Factory.

  A 56 RIPTA bus is directly followed by a 55 bus who cannot get around the corner turning right onto the street in front of me. A black Jeep stands in its way, so it must wait until the light turns green to restart the flow of traffic.

  A 50 bus passes in front of me to turn left towards the mall. As it resumes its travels after halting at the red light, it makes a high-pitched whirring sound, like a giant Prius. It turns out to be one of those clean-fuel buses.

  A dark green Acura just beeped loudly in front of me. It had only waited a moment after the light turned green.

  A group of about five young guys and one even younger girl are walking past Panera. The main group of them seems to be calling another one back to come join them. “JOSH!!” rings throughout the area over and over.

  There is too much going on to be able to really describe anything without missing endless other occurrences.

  Lots of people seem to gun it through the yellow light at this intersection.

  The sun is going down at a rather rapid rate, and a cool breeze comes from the right.

  Bus 50 passes, going left.

  A woman talking on her cell phone comes from the left, walking being me on the grass. She is complaining about something happening “all frickin’ day!” She does not seem to be in a rush.

  An older couple approaches from the same direction, but they stay on the sidewalk. They both wear tan backpacks and blue shirts.

  Bus 20 just turned left and stops just before Panera. I’ve never seen this bus number before.

  A group of three Indian people (two male, one female) pass on the opposite side of the street, talking worriedly. The woman wears tight jeans and tall stilettos.

  A tan Subaru pulls up to the intersection in front of me, then backs up slowly. They stop in front of me for a moment, then keep backing up. They wait there for a few seconds. I do not look up. They light turns green, and they move on.

  I am liking this intersection less and less.

  Bus 57 turns right, carrying a red mountain bike on its snout.

  A pair of black women’s lace-up short boots and men’s tan moccasins pass.

  A group of four people (two male, two female) waits to cross the street. They all wear jeans, the men wear red t-shirts, and one woman wears a magenta shirt.

  Two androgynous young people pass on the opposite side of the street. One has neon pink hair, a light tan jacket, and black pants and shoes. The other has red streaks in its hair.