Marauding On Mill Ave

[Vex Harrow]

Come marauding On Mill Ave! This phrase came up because a friend of mine wanted an appropriate thematic name for getting people to come out to Mill and be part of the eternal carnival fete that is the Ave. And, I must say, that in the grand tradition of the Vikings, pirates, and everyone else who pillage and plunder, “marauding” is an excellent word.

There are a multitude of visitors to the Ave on Saturdays. We have the college students, staggering under the weight of their books, tests, and studies from the week who are looking for freedom in drunken company and alcoholic spirits. There are the odd visitors from Scottsdale and nearby cities who just want to mingle in the crowds, visit the stores, and they also end up bar hopping as well. Then, there’s the street rats who already had their time on the Ave during the day, and those seeking the underground cultures of the drum circle, places like Zias, Trails, and Graffiti Shop.

I suppose there is one other group, in the tired and weary college goers, who take up small groups in the Coffee Plantation and Starbucks. There they chat quietly over steaming cups about intellectual pursuits that are too ephemeral to last long in the hard grit of the street itself.

Come. Maraud.

Even if it’s not to Mill Ave that you go. To clubs, to a nearby street, to the city or towne square that makes up your life. There’s lots of people out there.

[jorwyn]

Does tromping through the woods count?
I find myself more and more hermit like on my days off. I fade into the underbrush, practically running from the company of humans.
And yet, I like people... just not now, not in the Spring. I've got too much energy buzzing under my skin... I need to be Out There to see the green wake up. I need to bust out and run!
Spring fever hits me hard, especially after long and rough Winters.

I'll go maraud something townlike later... How about this Summer? I'll hit the SnowCone cart, and the juice place downtown, and go stand in the air conditioning and watch the glass blowers....

Maybe Mill was easier for me because it felt like my turf. This new place that is what an old place I knew has become keeps me on edge. I don't belong there. Someday, I will return to Mill, and I fear I will feel the same.
These places stop matching my memory of them with only a short time away, so a decade changes everything.

I was new to Mill once. I wonder why the wariness wasn't there. Oh, wait. In Phoenix, the wariness was always there, thus Mill was no different. That's how I dealt with it. I was like that so much, I lost awareness of it.
Hrmmm... perhaps I'll have to learn to tune it out and brave downtown. Though, it's oddly like Mill without students or Millrats. It's a Mill that's been sanitized for tourists..... but it never was a Mill to begin with. It was just a sad worn out small town's central area. Now it's something... but not meant for local residents. That's probably why I don't maraud there. There's no appeal in it.

And, well, the trees call.