You know who reads this site on Friday? Nobody, that's who. So if you're reading this, be congratulated then, on naming yourselves amongst the nobodies, the ghostly few pushed so far to the margins that even to themselves is their own existence up for debate. This is my scattershot Friday list for you, my blog subalterns at the wet drippy end of the workweek.
- I didn't really catch on until today that this is the best possible time of my whole life to become a gambling addict. I work right across the street from the casino. I don't even have to walk outside; by pedway and pedway I can amble on over and empty my pockets. I work in government offices connected to a hotel, and most of the hotel patrons are of a mind to gamble. I've listened to them in the lobby and in the hallways, husbands and wives going over their gambling strategies, clutches of conventioneers convinced that they've got a handle on the best machines, the surest things on the floor. They are all losers. They have come here to find that out.
- I just went downstairs to the lobby to get a cup of coffee from the cafe. When the barista took my money and tapped out the order on her touchscreen, the clicking of her long fake nails on the plastic screen sounded like insects knocking in hte walls of an old house.
- It turns out that I have a turtle-related secret. Today for the first time in two weeks I spotted the turtles in the fountain again. The one with the dark green shell was sitting under the waterfall, submerged maybe half an inch, his belly resting against a tile slab and his limbs floating relaxed in the water. He (all turtles are males to me until proven otherwise) was letting himself be rocked back and forth by the waterfall, in much the same way that swimmers let their bodies be nudged by competing ways.
As I was watching him, the shy turtle, the one with the bright orange shell, swam out from underneath the waterfall and pushed its head out of the water for some air, before submerging again and kicking off for other parts of the pool. When I turned my attention back to the darker turtle, he was staring straight at me, his little crenellated seedpod of a pod swivelling to track my movements. I leaned closer and saw the little black balls of his eyes, but I must showed too much interest. He backed away in little increments until only his head and front limbs were visible. Then he retreated to the other side of the waterfall.
I stopped to talk to a staff member who had seen me watching the turtles. There were six at one point, but apparently most of them have been stolen. The staff believe that only one is left. How many people know about the existence of the shy orange turtle? I must be one of the only people who stops to watch them on a regular basis.