Ramblings Of A Man Named Joseph Carro

Posts tagged “Work

Danforth Street

Posted on December 7, 2018

I walked with a hobble down Danforth Street in Portland, Maine. It was around fifty degrees, and the air had a chill to it. There was nothing going on that I could see, and the night seemed extra quiet. Still, as is my habit since I don’t trust people, I kept looking behind me to see if I was being shadowed. I could never quite shake that feeling. Nobody there, of course. Better safe than sorry, though. My right foot had something wrong with it. A bone that was out of place, a cramp…something. Whatever it was – it made me limp along. I didn’t pay much attention to it. It would walk itself out. That’s how foot things usually worked, right? After a…

My Friend Mikey

Posted on December 5, 2018

Sometimes, I think back about friends I had who are no longer with me. This doesn’t have to have anything to do with death, mind you. Sometimes, as people, we just outgrow each other. You move, you go to different schools, you get married. Those kinds of things happen and are pretty inevitable in life. One of these friends I had who fits into this category was named Mike. We all knew him affectionately as Mikey. We met one summer when my mom moved us to Shawmut Street in Lewiston, Maine. We lived in a crappy apartment, infested with fleas and in a bad part of town at the time. We didn’t notice much of that as children, though, only remembering it when we…

Defeating the Darkness

Posted on November 13, 2018

Whenever I get too down on myself, it’s mostly because I’ve become too caught up in my everyday life. Work, bills, laundry, taxes, dishes, etc. No matter what I do to try to remedy the “everyday blues” – it can be hard to pull myself from the oppressive black hole of the mundane. At that point, I try to take stock of my surroundings. I remember that ultimately it’s the things I choose to do, the things I’ve been courageous enough to try, the things I partake in to set off the constant edge I feel. Those things are all more important to me in the long run than the momentary stresses and anxiety of the day-to-day. I’m no musician, but I’ve spent a…

Excelsior: My Tribute To Stan Lee

Posted on November 13, 2018

*Artwork by me.   I don’t have any photos with Stan Lee. I was never lucky enough to meet the man in real life – So, on top of that, I also don’t have any touching anecdotes about how I met him in an elevator once, or how I sat down next to him at a convention, or anything else I’ve been grateful to read about him on the day of his death. Stan Lee never encountered me once during the 95 years he roamed our Earth – he didn’t know I even existed. And yet the mark he left on me was indelible, and though he didn’t know I existed – he knew lots of people LIKE me. I was an archetype in…

The Peacoat

Posted on November 7, 2018

I was writing at home, or trying to, when the desire to get up out of my chair finally struck me. I needed out, I needed to get out into the fall weather and interact with humans and stop looking at the page. I grabbed my pea coat, slipped it on, and slipped out the door. My girlfriend at the time wasn’t home yet. The night was cold, and my feet slid over wet leaves that covered the grimy Portland sidewalk. Several times, I had to check my pace or risk falling to the tar. I took in the night air, letting it fill my lungs and letting my eyes adjust to the darkness. Upon entering the store, I wandered around aimlessly. I wasn’t…

Bob

Posted on September 23, 2018

The last time I ever saw Bob alive, he took me aside toward the end of one of his shifts. Business had slowed, we were cleaning up. I was rearranging some product in the front of the store. “Hey,” he said, rolling up his apron and throwing on his hat. His voice was a bit gravelly, and he cleared his throat as he continued. “I just want to tell you that I appreciate working with you.” “Thanks, Robert,” I said. “I appreciate that.” He nodded, throwing on his jacket. I had been kneeling and slowly brought myself up from my knees and onto my feet, dusting my hands off at my sides. “It gets a little crazy here sometimes,” he continued. “I like that…

The Magic Rock

Posted on August 29, 2018

I meet many strange people who seem to gravitate toward me for some reason. Perhaps it’s because I have a friendly face and relaxed mannerisms. Perhaps I’m easy to talk to. Perhaps it’s an energy I give off. In any case, Portland has no small share of strange souls who happen to come into contact with me, and the man with the magic rock was no exception. I only had ten minutes left of my half-hour break at work. I had just finished eating most of a rather dry turkey panini when I stood up, stretched, and walked to the condiment bar nearby to get a couple of napkins. Upon returning to my seat in the cafe, I noticed a young man with baggy…