Fair State of Arizona

All the bloody world is asleep--friends, foes, lovers, the indifferent multitudes--and I am awake. Jesus knows what it feels like when people are asleep to you, on you, near you, from afar. Every night he goes to bed probably saying, "Oh come on world, am I that dull, are you that tired?" Of course today he and his crew choose to remain invisible, willing to risk the lack of company in the present, to gain loyal friends and company later. But a God can hardly complain too much when his earthly friends are asleep, can he? Especially when he often chooses to speak only in sign language.

As for me, my flesh was made word, and dwelt among those who know me, but nobody reads, or cares. Every mind for itself, and perhaps that is my sin too.

Was at the Arizona State Fair today on opening day. Went there after work with others, mostly to eat and shop, not to go on any rides. It was a motley crowd full of the young and their still younger offspring. Women in ill fitting garb playing the sexy potato. The female Hispanics of high school age had their hair poofed like a wind slap, or flattened down over the eye, neither flattering or respective of unique head shapes. And lamb, sheep, was on the grill too. Barbecued, along with chicken and huge turkey legs.

People walked around with kids, with girlfriends, with friends, with turkey legs, sifting sands killing moments beneath the high loop of two ferris wheels, Ferris Buellering the early evening hours. One could see sausages, both on the grill and walking down the long path, plus numerous fried things from bugs to butter to bread to people too tired or dazed to walk or eat anymore. One middle class couple sat on the next bench over. They had a maybe two year old and the father insisted that the best way to keep the kid from crying was to roll a basketball back and forth in the main path in front of the oncoming hoards. The crowd could not penetrate the sanctity of his personal family unit, nor distort the clarity of his inconsideration of their existence. He was in his own world, acting as though all was delightful, as though putting on a delightful show, and stealing glances your way as if to say, "See me playing with my delightful boy."  Deep inside you laugh meanly when he accidentally pegs delightful two year old in his delightful head with delightful basketball. Maybe, just maybe he will sit down and get out of people's way now. But no. Two year old is resilient and bounces back from pegged head.

Dirty. Arizona's fair distorts all visual imagery one might have in the head upon hearing the words "state fair". If sufficiently innocent, maybe from one of the real cities, like New York or Chicago or Boston, you imagine a fair to have grass and trees and apple butter, and cows and jam and livestock judges and horses and rhubarb and the you name it Family Singers and cheese and biggest pumpkin contests. Not here in Phoenix. It's the only city-like feature the city has, that it can make a fair seem quite filthy and urban.

I exaggerate some, but I can do that, because my friends are gone or asleep, and nobody can hear me. A pox on you sleepers and faders. May you dream of me and remember my name when I am gone.