No privacy.
Never any privacy.
I found a tree. I found a safe spot. Then these jokers appeared.
But I can’t tell them. I can’t tell them to leave. And, really I don’t want them to.
I am secretly needy. I am secretly clingy. I am aloof, but afraid to be isolated.
I am Cone Alone.
It takes two to tango.
It also takes two to see-saw.
I am Cone Alone.
Our relationship has ups and downs.
Lately, something has come between us.
I am Cone Alone.
We’ve been on the same jobs for over 20 years. We’ve nearly been hit, almost drowned, been struck by lightning and had a quantity of scrapes, bruises and flesh wounds that verges on innumerable.
In ’88 we were on a job in Pittsburgh out near the interstate. A distracted driver nearly swerved right into us.
In the summer of 1995 we worked the concert for some ska band or something called Captain Hookey. We both had beer (maybe some piss) on us that night.
Last summer [2011], we were stuck on a beach a little too close to comfort to some potentially shark-infested waters. I’ve never liked the ocean and I particularly don’t like anything that could snap me in two without batting a fin.
Years, near misses and close calls normally bring coworkers together and forge a bond that will last a lifetime.
This will be one of our last jobs together. We have never spoken to each other.
I am Cone Alone.
Cone Alone is a site dedicated to chronicling the lonely existence of traffic cones in the US and abroad.
Cone Alone allows actual traffic cones to describe their thoughts, feelings, anxieties and fears in their own words with no editing from the photographer.
Tomorrow, in honor of Valentine’s Day, Cone Alone will diverge slightly from its norm.
Previously, readers saw solitary cones living solitary lives. Starting tomorrow, readers will still experience the same isolation, but in group settings.
Even in the midst of a crowd, cones still experience a tremendous sense of loneliness and solitude.
As the blog expands to show you cones in groups remember, even though cones are not always by themselves, they are always…alone.
Ouch.
I really did not see that coming.
I am calling OSHA tomorrow.
I am Cone Alone.
I guess I'm just accident cone.
I am going full-tilt through life.
I am Cone Alone.
I never knew autoerotic asphyxiation would be so complicated.
I am all choked up.
I am Cone Alone.
Now I can finish that Chuck Palahniuk book
*note: Today’s subject is fine and still enjoys safe breath play to this day.
*Slurp*
Yeah, I thought this was going to be a lazy day. Not much to do but punch the clock two times and stand here in between.
I guess not.
I guess someone thought the rules didn’t apply to them.
If you want Park Place, why not buy a Monopoly board you punk?
I guess someone thought that driving a hippy wagon gave them permission to do whatever they want.
Outback? Yeah, I’d like to take you out back and give you a good bottom whoopin’ you’re probably in long need of.
Suba-ruin my day why don’t you?
You’ve got a lot of nerve.
I’ve got a parking lot of anger.
I am Cone Alone.
I could destroy you with my big tow
Ow! Ouch!
Yeesh. Ok you jerk. You win!
Sometimes it gets so boring working near the Capitol in DC. I mean, yeah, I get to see all those people rushing about with an air of importance, but I basically see the same people every day wearing the same clothes (many of the male-identified people wear blue a lot for some reason) and having the same arguments. None of them really do anything for us cones anyway, so I just ignore them. (We don’t even have a Cone delegation in Congress!)
So sue me if I want to ease the boredom with a simple contest with a fellow street worker. I mean, people arm wrestle right?
Well, this is the last time I get into a strength competition with an octagon. This would never happen to Sylvester Stallone.
Uuuuuhh.
I am flat broke, but I am joining a (jungle) gym tomorrow.
I am Cone Alone.
I am over this stop.
Cone Alone 