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July 24, 2005
Volume 4, Issue 24
rialto (re-AL-to) noun
1. A theatre district.
2. An exchange or marketplace.
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I adjusted the position of my glasses, and squinted at the computer screen through the bottom of my bifocals.
"Rialto? What the hell am I supposed to do with that?"
"You know, like in Venice. A marketplace."
"You mean like a mall? Or like a farmer's market?"
"Sort of like the Dog Days sidewalk sale."
I turned away from my girlfriend and stared back at the screen. Shit. This is gonna be a tough one.
I turned back, to see that she had walked into the other room. "Venice. Ain't that where they have them boats?"
"You mean the gondolas?"
Posted by: j.d. at July 24, 2005 8:07 AM · Permalink
Here I am, writing with my vintage Parker pen. On the bed is my wife’s purse. On the wall is a print of the Grand Canal, with those gondola thingies. The memory is still fresh of the dinner in the restaurant at the Charles Hotel in Cambridge, as is the memory of the traffic ticket I got in that California town on Route 66, just outside of San Bernardino. I reflect on the similarity between the names of my hotel in Melbourne, Florida, and the tallest building in Melbourne, Australia. Writer’s block is hell, but I thank God for Google.
Posted by: ErnieG at July 24, 2005 9:02 AM · Permalink
"hello?"
"Fine, I'll be right in."
I begin to mutter to myself, I can't belive that no one has the keys at work.... Oh well, the operation needs me, so here I go, driving the fifteen miles to bloomington to open a door...
Just passed Rialto.... Hell, Where is Jamel? He has a key.... Isnt he supposed to be at work? Guess he has the day off....
I walk in, open the door and on my way out bump into Jamel"
"what the fuck, why don't you have your keys"....
"I left them at home in Rialto.."
Looks should kill.
Posted by: Kirbside at July 24, 2005 10:00 AM · Permalink
It was her, alright. Red hat and coat, big black sunglasses to hide her pretty eyes, brown curly hair. Looked like I was going to have to chase after my erstwhile lover - again.
"Where?" I asked.
"Well, she did leave clues," said Japp, thumbing through her considerable portfolio. "An Italian flag, an history of the DeMedicis, and notes indicating she's interested in stealing large quantities of - " Japp paused to look at the dossier. "Shoes," he concluded.
"Venice's second-most exported product."
"And where would you buy shoes in Venice, other than - "
"Rialto," I said, breathless. "Carmen Sandiego, I have you now."
Posted by: G-Do at July 24, 2005 10:23 AM · Permalink
The old movie house is just another boarded up brick building on Main Street now. The marquee is bare, but you can still make out the name - Rialto.
They closed the balcony first, said it was unsafe to use any more. We had some good times in that balcony. The first time I played 'stinkfinger' with my date was up there. When they closed the balcony, well, we just went to the drive-in outside town, and climbed into the back seat.
Now they're both gone, the Rialto and the drive-in. The 24-screen mutliplex at the mall just isn't the same.
Posted by: hnumpah at July 24, 2005 10:51 AM · Permalink
She pushes a lock of snow-white hair out of her eyes and mentally says goodbye to her home as she locks the front door for the last time.
Her heart breaks as the memories tumble by. The sleepy citrus town where neighbors gathered for BBQ’s, moms stayed home and kids played outside without a care. Christmas lights, Little League, PTA fundraisers. Her children growing, confident and strong, now grown and moved away.
Fifty miles west was where the problems were. But years and growth have brought the big city problems to her neighborhood.
Rialto, California. Armpit of the Inland Empire.
Posted by: Darleen at July 24, 2005 11:22 AM · Permalink
They crept silently across the darkened rubble, for noise meant death. The squad was spread out, so that no mine or booby trap could take out more than one of them at a time. The next few minutes were crucial. Had their sentries fallen asleep, or were they alert and even now preparing to fire?
The enemy lines were just ahead, now, shelter hacked out of the rubble.
A rush, and then the knives and sharpened shovels went to work. It was a one way exchange, carelessness had killed.
The ancient rialto bore silent witness to the theater of war.
Posted by: Gahrie at July 24, 2005 10:47 PM · Permalink