Blog 2: Man is a reasoning rather than a reasonable animal

Devon, being a man of unflinching silence and passiveness in the face of most any social situations, kept quite to himself as he stood alone on poplar, facing directly across from the clinic. Staring off into the distance with no real articulate thought flowing through his mind, his gaze was interrupted but the mumblings of an old man across the street.

"oh." thought Devon. "Its the old crazy man again."

He sighed, somewhat sadly and somewhat exasperatedly and beamed a pointed glare at the old man, hoping in vain that the old man would notice him and stop his annoying and senseless babbling. On an rare whim, Devon decided to cross the street and approach the old man, curious (only out of extreme boredom) as to what the old man was actually saying. Devon walked toward the old man, with no pace or intent in his step, not an emotion traceable through the eyes and face; and no sound was made as his leather dress shoes contacted the cold pavement beneath. It was not until Devon was almost arms length that he stopped to the side of the old man, and a few things struck him immediately. First was the smell.

Devon thought to himself, "He could at least do to clean himself up a bit. How in the hell does this man expect to get any money from begging since people will be afraid to get within 15 feet of him because of the smell!"

This however was quite paradoxical to the life style choices of Devon himself (remembering the kitchen situation described earlier).

As clearly suggested by his thoughts, Devon was an extremely cynical man, Not prone to much higher thought processes rather than his immediate needs (food, sleep, money, music, etc) Devon felt no compassion for this poor old man.

Devon (again, not one for social interaction) stood there, staring at the old man for a good 20 or so seconds until the old man turned toward Devon and said in an old, aged, and weather beaten voice,

"What will come will come.  Even if I shroud it all in silence."

This struck a chord with Devon, and it made him think. He felt like he had heard such a statement before back in high school over in England, something about plays or poetry.

"Ah!" Devon exclaimed, excited that he remembered something. "Thats a line fromm whacha-call it play...the...the...Oedipus Rex! Thats right, its from that Greek play, Oedipus Rex!"

Quite unaware that he had spoken out loud when he thought he was just thinking it, Devon stopped abruptly in his excitement and looked around at his surrounding rather aquwardly. It was dark now, and Devon checked his watch, and noticed that his shift at the radio station was coming up in just 15 minutes. The only reason Devon looked forward to being the DJ after Leon was that he didnt like Leon. Devon felt that as long as "that idiot Leon" wasn't working, things were better off for the radio station and for him. For the life of him, Devon cant remembered why he hired Leon. He guessed it was during his first few months as boss, and 100.4 WTF was starting to fold under because, well, no really listened to the radio station. Pledge drives were painfully slow and unrewarding; and advertiresers sometimes refused to put there ads on his stations channel, citing that the reason was,

"why bother. No one listens to your station anyway."

Devon again sighed (rather loudely) and noticed that the old poor man was starting to walk away from the bench he had been sitting at, by the side of the clinic. The old man had his walkman in, and Devon, being the DJ that he is, instantly recongnized the song.

"Bob Dylan." Thought Devon. "Simple Twist of Fate."

While Devon didnt like the song, he didnt dislike it either. Regardless, Devon still thought it odd that an old poor man would have it on his walkman.

He decided to blame it on Leon.

"The idiot is always playing songs with heavy introspection. I hate introspection," said Devon in his head, walking briskely toward the radio station. Checking his watch one more time, Devon noticed that he had 3 minutes until rotation, and he would be on for a good part of the night.

Blog 1: A New Day...

The day started with two loud noises. The first noise was the sharp ringing of Devon's alarm clock, and not a moment later, the second sound followed suit with a loud crash. The loud crash in question was in fact Devon's Devilishly large hands connecting smartly with the then unsuspecting alarm clock. Considering that Devon had followed this alarm clock without falter for the past 10 years, one would think that the alarm clock would have eventually acquired the knowledge that if it wanted to stopped being smacked at 6:30am each morning (except Sunday, as Devon was surprisingly religious given his profession) that it would just stop ringing altogether.

With many huffs and grunts, Devon stretched jerkily and waddle quickly into the bathroom. His early morning constitution over with, Devon then proceeded, without much grace, into the adjoining room, which happened to be his sparsely stocked kitchen. One could easily get the impression that Devon was lacking of female presence in his life. When one counts the out dated milk gallon and the never cleaned coffee machine and the dishes from last week, one could also assume that poor Devon was not as organized and on top of things as one might initially expect.

A 10 year resident of Castle Apartments, he was only well known in the building for two reasons. reason one: in Devon's entire 10 years spent at Castle Apartments, he had never missed paying the rent. The second reason that Devon was known was because he was the only one in castle apartments, and in fact the entire town, that spoke with a British accent.

Indeed, Devon was British, having grown up in Newcastle during his childhood, but just before he left high school, his parents moved to the States, leaving him to finish high school on his own. He did, but without much gusto, never went to college, choosing instead to pursue the life of drugs and music. He made a decent living being a DJ in the UK, but eventually got bored with it all and moved in with his parents Stateside. His parents quickly threw him out and left him with little pocket money. Instead of flying back to Britain like his parents strongly suggested, he instead opted to see what options might await him in the Land of Opportunities. Accordingly, he moved into Castle Apartments and and soon became the DJ for the town radio station, 100.4 WTF.

Moving back into the present space, Devon sighed as he saw the outdated milk, but no cereal to go with it. After exploring his food options by flinging open empty cupboards, he soon assessed that there was indeed no food in the apartment, and that before going to work, he needed to take a short stroll across the street and down Brownstone to the local grocery. Going back into his sparsely furnished bedroom, Devon thew on some clothes over his relatively slender and cylindrical body. Taking a quick glance out the window before he left his apartment, he notice that it again was another sunny day that was most likely swelteringly hot. Hoping that it was not the case he rode the elevator down from his top floor apartment (number 779) waved unvaryingly at the front desk guard, and proceeded out the the double doors of Castle Apartments and into the blaring hot sun.

Taking a quick glance and noticing a smell that he could not place, ran quickly across the street. Even though the sun was out, drivers at that time of morning are still angry at having to be up at that time of morning, and seeing as Benson Street was the main way through town, drivers tended to zoom by without abandon. Having made it across the street, Devon took another look around, a small bead of sweat dripped down his nose.