After work, outside a bodega. A drunk man crouches two feet in front of the door talking to himself.
Drunk Man: Wha we got...Hmmm...is that...
As I open the door and start to walk in the Drunk Man lunges into the door way with me. For a moment we're scrunched in the door frame shoulder to shoulder. Partly my momentum and partly a wave of anger propel me forward and jostle him in the process. Essentially forcing my way in first. I immediately regret it but it happens so quick I don't know how to respond.
Drunk Man:(seemingly much more sober, standing by the entrance shuffling through his bags) What? You think you tough? You think you strong? You ain't that strong.
I stand in line to buy cigarettes looking straight ahead not saying anything.
Drunk Man: I'm ready. You want me to teach you something, you want me to show you something. Who are you, you nothing. You ain't that big, I'd whop you easy. I'm right here. You in some big rush. Everyone in a rush.
He continues to make vague threats as he rummages through his bags, presumably finding whatever he came back in to the store for. As he leaves he makes a big show of holding the door for two people who are entering. As if to, justly, shame me for my rudeness.
After I purchase my smokes I walk home feeling gross. Dirty. Certainly the Drunk Man was off putting and perhaps deliberately antagonistic but everyone deserves respect regardless of their condition. There is no benefit in being baited to matching unpleasantness with the same. Acting out of anger or aggression, lashing out, is never satisfying. There is no righteousness in it even if in the moment there is some fleeting justification.
Although distressing it is a good reminder. Whether on a commute, dealing with people professionally, friends, collaborators, total strangers, what-have-you it is better to be gracious, kind, and forgiving. It makes for a much happier life.
Showing posts with label StreetTalk. Show all posts
Showing posts with label StreetTalk. Show all posts
Monday, October 3, 2016
Monday, June 13, 2016
Street Talk 26
Outside smoking. Two brothers exit the corner bodega after getting an afternoon snack. The younger, 3 or 4, is babbling contently. The older, 11 or 12, listens amused with a half smile on his face as he struggles with opening a candy bar.
Younger Brother: Is that your truck?
Me: (surprised) No. It's a, it's a church van.
Older Brother: (grins) He loves trucks.
Me: (grins back)
Younger Brother: I do too!
Older Brother: (shrugs)
They walk off and the kid continues to talk excitedly and his brother continues to patiently listen. Two kids on a beautiful spring afternoon going home with a sweet treat.
Yes. The world can be cruel. There are tragedies, injustices, and enraging things happening every day. It can be frustrating and heartbreaking. But there is also love and kindness. There is also joy. As long as you keep yourself open to it.
Younger Brother: Is that your truck?
Me: (surprised) No. It's a, it's a church van.
Older Brother: (grins) He loves trucks.
Me: (grins back)
Younger Brother: I do too!
Older Brother: (shrugs)
They walk off and the kid continues to talk excitedly and his brother continues to patiently listen. Two kids on a beautiful spring afternoon going home with a sweet treat.
Yes. The world can be cruel. There are tragedies, injustices, and enraging things happening every day. It can be frustrating and heartbreaking. But there is also love and kindness. There is also joy. As long as you keep yourself open to it.
Tuesday, September 15, 2015
Keisha
you sat down next to me
as if we were old friends.
I helped you lower yourself
and you complained
of the growing twins inside you.
You asked if I had a second plum
I did not but I willingly gave
the one I had.
It was clear you wanted to converse
but the strangeness of your familiarity
drove me deeper into my book.
I would have gladly sat in silence
sharing the warm quiet afternoon
but talk is what you pushed for.
Eventually, realizing my resistance, you left
I hope you find whatever it is you seek
and wish you well.
How odd, to look for companionship
from a lone man, deliberate in his solitude.
As if the ripe red plum I held was some bright beckoning beacon.
Saturday, August 15, 2015
Street Talk 25
I'm riding my bike north on Ashland after running an errand.
At my cross street I see two bikers off their bikes talking to an old woman.
They all have their phones in their hands.
I notice an orange mass of fur on the curb a couple feet from where they are standing.
At first I think its a cat.
At second glance its a dog. A Pomeranian.
Presumably run over. Dead or Dying.
None of the three people look upset or guilty.
I guess the three have simply found the dog.
Are trying to locate its owner.
They look around in confusion. They seemed harried, helpless.
I ride away separating myself from the little tragedy.
My thoughts go out to the dog's owner.
My prayers go out to the dog.
I pray it is not suffering.
I pray its death was quick and painless.
I pray its spirit goes to wherever dog spirits go.
A place it will be walked, fed, pampered, and loved.
Each pump of the bike pedal another prayer.
A small one for the small dog crumpled at the south west corner of Ashland and Sunnyside in Chicago Illinois at 3:18pm on August 15th 2015.
At my cross street I see two bikers off their bikes talking to an old woman.
They all have their phones in their hands.
I notice an orange mass of fur on the curb a couple feet from where they are standing.
At first I think its a cat.
At second glance its a dog. A Pomeranian.
Presumably run over. Dead or Dying.
None of the three people look upset or guilty.
I guess the three have simply found the dog.
Are trying to locate its owner.
They look around in confusion. They seemed harried, helpless.
I ride away separating myself from the little tragedy.
My thoughts go out to the dog's owner.
My prayers go out to the dog.
I pray it is not suffering.
I pray its death was quick and painless.
I pray its spirit goes to wherever dog spirits go.
A place it will be walked, fed, pampered, and loved.
Each pump of the bike pedal another prayer.
A small one for the small dog crumpled at the south west corner of Ashland and Sunnyside in Chicago Illinois at 3:18pm on August 15th 2015.
Monday, July 6, 2015
Street Talk 24
I'm sitting on the steps of a church smoking, waiting to meet a friend. On Mondays the church sorts and packages clothes and food for donation. I notice on the side of the church there is an old man waiting by the side door. He is short and thin, his baggy cloths are dirty, his grey hair unwashed.
After a couple minutes he approaches the stairs where I am sitting.
Old Man: 'scuse me.
He sits on the stairs just below me. He has a to-go Styrofoam container with food in it which he begins to eat quietly. It's a Thanksgiving meal- turkey, stuffing, corn, and mashed potatoes. At first I'm nervous he'll ask me for money or a cigarette but he doesn't. We sit in silence. He eats, I smoke. We sit this way for about ten minutes.
It strikes me as incredibly sad. This old man eating a donated Thanksgiving dinner in the middle of summer. With the air so hot and humid I wonder how he could be enjoying it. I chastise myself, any food is welcome when you're hungry.
I wonder if he is waiting there for the same reason I am. I suspect he is not. I think if things were different I could be him. I think there was a time when the gutter held a certain glamour, a certain romance for me and that I am glad I am free from that delusion. I think his present could still be my future if I'm not diligent, if I'm not attentive, if I'm not wary. I silently thank him for his unconscious reminder.
He does not smell, he is not rude or pushy, he is not angry, he is simply sad. And the sadness follows him like a loyal dog. Regret too. I can feel the weight of his regret.
I think we are not much different him and I. Two men sitting on the steps of a church. One smoking, one eating.
After a couple minutes he approaches the stairs where I am sitting.
Old Man: 'scuse me.
He sits on the stairs just below me. He has a to-go Styrofoam container with food in it which he begins to eat quietly. It's a Thanksgiving meal- turkey, stuffing, corn, and mashed potatoes. At first I'm nervous he'll ask me for money or a cigarette but he doesn't. We sit in silence. He eats, I smoke. We sit this way for about ten minutes.
It strikes me as incredibly sad. This old man eating a donated Thanksgiving dinner in the middle of summer. With the air so hot and humid I wonder how he could be enjoying it. I chastise myself, any food is welcome when you're hungry.
I wonder if he is waiting there for the same reason I am. I suspect he is not. I think if things were different I could be him. I think there was a time when the gutter held a certain glamour, a certain romance for me and that I am glad I am free from that delusion. I think his present could still be my future if I'm not diligent, if I'm not attentive, if I'm not wary. I silently thank him for his unconscious reminder.
He does not smell, he is not rude or pushy, he is not angry, he is simply sad. And the sadness follows him like a loyal dog. Regret too. I can feel the weight of his regret.
I think we are not much different him and I. Two men sitting on the steps of a church. One smoking, one eating.
Thursday, April 30, 2015
Street Talk 23
On a crowded rush hour brownline train. Fullterton stop. A man is playing some middling electronic/pop/R&B loudly on a portable stereo. I suspect the music is self produced.
Woman: Put your headphones in.
Man: What?
Woman: Come on. Listen on your headphones.
Man: Who do you think you are. Shut your mouth bitch.
Woman: Just put your headphones in. No one wants to hear that.
Man: No one else is saying anything. Whats your fucking problem. Mind your own fucking business. Your lucky I don't hit women. But I know people. I could get people to take care of you.
Woman#2: Give it a rest. Turn that crap off.
Man: So disrespectful! Why you being so disrespectful to me! Keep yourself to yourself and leave me alone.
Woman#2: Disrespectful!?! You're the one that's being disrespectful to everyone on this train. And making threats-
Man: I didn't make any threats.
Woman: Yes. You threatened me.
Man: No. I said...I said I don't hit women...but I know ladies who do.
Woman: Your being rude.
Man: I'm being me and you're going to have to deal with it. You can't tell me what to do. I'm going to do what I'm going to do and you can't stop me.
The man turns up his music and the train is silent other than the refrain of the pulsing chorus "fuck love" repeating over and over again.
Four stops later at Southport the man is about to exit.
Man: What's your name?
Woman: Mary.
The man exits the train. Both women who have spoken to him clap and cheer. They are joined by a smattering of other commuters. Mostly though everyone has politely ignored the whole interaction.
Woman: Put your headphones in.
Man: What?
Woman: Come on. Listen on your headphones.
Man: Who do you think you are. Shut your mouth bitch.
Woman: Just put your headphones in. No one wants to hear that.
Man: No one else is saying anything. Whats your fucking problem. Mind your own fucking business. Your lucky I don't hit women. But I know people. I could get people to take care of you.
Woman#2: Give it a rest. Turn that crap off.
Man: So disrespectful! Why you being so disrespectful to me! Keep yourself to yourself and leave me alone.
Woman#2: Disrespectful!?! You're the one that's being disrespectful to everyone on this train. And making threats-
Man: I didn't make any threats.
Woman: Yes. You threatened me.
Man: No. I said...I said I don't hit women...but I know ladies who do.
Woman: Your being rude.
Man: I'm being me and you're going to have to deal with it. You can't tell me what to do. I'm going to do what I'm going to do and you can't stop me.
The man turns up his music and the train is silent other than the refrain of the pulsing chorus "fuck love" repeating over and over again.
Four stops later at Southport the man is about to exit.
Man: What's your name?
Woman: Mary.
The man exits the train. Both women who have spoken to him clap and cheer. They are joined by a smattering of other commuters. Mostly though everyone has politely ignored the whole interaction.
Thursday, April 16, 2015
Conference
I've only talked to a handful of people so far all of whom have been very friendly. All except for one crazy old man who I'm not positive should actually be here. Below is part of our thirty minute discussion.
Old Man: Obama is a demon. He's been a liar his whole life. Trying to take over, trying to control us. Hilary is a demon too. They're both demons, that's what I call them.(touches my arm) You. You afraid.(touches my arm again) You afraid of the government?
Me: No.
Old Man: Why not?
Me: I don't have to explain to you why I'm not afraid of the government.
Old Man: OK. Fine. I'm afraid. I'm terrified of those demons. Listen(touches my arm). Listen. You seem honest. You'll give me a straight answer. Do you think insurance will ever be good? This is what I'm saying. Obama the demon and his manipulative exclusionary exploitative health insurance, will we ever be able to recover?
Me: I can't speak about health insurance or government run insurance programs. I work for a private company that sells malpractice insurance. I'd be happy to answer any questions on professional liability.
Old Man: OK. OK. But Obama and Hilary are devils, demons. Watching us all the time, tracking our emails and phones, they know everything we do. Scott Walker is just a little demon. OK? Listen.(touches my arm) I'm a teacher and a counselor. I've taught in 37 countries. I'm honest and I know what's going on. You seem honest?
Me: Sure.
Old Man: And I know you'll probably give me the answer you're suppose to give. But. Let me ask you. Is your insurance company a good company?
Me: Yes. Its a straight forward company.
Old Man: We'll just have to agree to disagree.
Monday, February 9, 2015
Street Talk 22
On the Brown Line. 7pm.
Three young teens are horsing around on the train. A drunk man boards the train and sits, swaying.
Drunk Man: (to two of the young teens) What are you? Fags?
Young Teen 1: What?
Young Teen 2: No. No. We're friends.
(pause)
Young Teen 3: Yeah. They're a couple of fags.
DM: Ha! You some fags?
YT2: Uh. Yeah. I guess.
YT1: Yeah. We're fags.
DM: And I'm a REAL nigga!
YT1&2&3: (in shock, laughing)
DM: I'm a real nigga.
(pause)
DM: Call me a nigga.
YT1: (still laughing) ...what?
DM: (commanding) Say it! Say I'm a nigga!
(pause)
YT1: I don't-
DM: SAY I'M A REAL NIGGA!
YT1: But what...will anything happen if I do?
DM: (lazily) Say it.
YT3: (tentatively, cautiously) You a real nigga.
DM: YES. I. AM. Now you say it. Say you a real nigga. Come on say it.
YT1:(hesitantly) I'm a real nigga.
DM: Say it LOUD.
YT1: I'm a real nigga!
DM: Stand up and say it! All you get up! Get up! Say you a real nigga!
YT1&2&3: (standing, chanting) I'm a real nigga! I'm a real nigga! I'm a real nigga!
DM: (takes out blunt from pocket) And this here's a REAL blunt.
YT1&2&3: (laughing) No way!
YT1:(boldly) Light it up.
DM: Ha. Ha. Ha. Umhm. (searching in pockets for a lighter)
YT2: (quietly)...no way...
The drunk man finds his lighter, lights up the blunt and begins to smoke. The three youths look on in awe gathering their courage to ask for a puff, I exit the train and enter the adjacent car.
Three young teens are horsing around on the train. A drunk man boards the train and sits, swaying.
Drunk Man: (to two of the young teens) What are you? Fags?
Young Teen 1: What?
Young Teen 2: No. No. We're friends.
(pause)
Young Teen 3: Yeah. They're a couple of fags.
DM: Ha! You some fags?
YT2: Uh. Yeah. I guess.
YT1: Yeah. We're fags.
DM: And I'm a REAL nigga!
YT1&2&3: (in shock, laughing)
DM: I'm a real nigga.
(pause)
DM: Call me a nigga.
YT1: (still laughing) ...what?
DM: (commanding) Say it! Say I'm a nigga!
(pause)
YT1: I don't-
DM: SAY I'M A REAL NIGGA!
YT1: But what...will anything happen if I do?
DM: (lazily) Say it.
YT3: (tentatively, cautiously) You a real nigga.
DM: YES. I. AM. Now you say it. Say you a real nigga. Come on say it.
YT1:(hesitantly) I'm a real nigga.
DM: Say it LOUD.
YT1: I'm a real nigga!
DM: Stand up and say it! All you get up! Get up! Say you a real nigga!
YT1&2&3: (standing, chanting) I'm a real nigga! I'm a real nigga! I'm a real nigga!
DM: (takes out blunt from pocket) And this here's a REAL blunt.
YT1&2&3: (laughing) No way!
YT1:(boldly) Light it up.
DM: Ha. Ha. Ha. Umhm. (searching in pockets for a lighter)
YT2: (quietly)...no way...
The drunk man finds his lighter, lights up the blunt and begins to smoke. The three youths look on in awe gathering their courage to ask for a puff, I exit the train and enter the adjacent car.
Sunday, December 21, 2014
Street Talk 21
Waiting at the bus stop
Old Dude: You know what? I saw a new dog breed today!
Me: Um...yeah?
OD: It was the dardenst thing. It was just the darndest thing. A Pomeranian and a, and a, guess...?
Me: Eh
OD: And a...HUSKIE! (laughs) You know Pomeranian is a small dog, I don't usually like those small dogs, always jumping around and talking. But the Huskie, it had those Huskie different colored eyes and that soft, thick, brown fur, just lovely. Called it a, called it a, guess...?
Me: Um
OD: A POMSKIE! (laughs) Can you believe it? Not an official breed yet...but maybe soon!
Me: Uh sure, yeah.
OD: This neighborhood its like everyone has a dog! Not a cat man me, like dogs but medium size ones, or big ones. You know there's a dog breed that can take care of children? Komondor, use them for childcare in Romania.
Me: Ok
OD: You know these big white fluffy dogs they don't like anyone getting too excitable, they PREVENT anyone from getting too excitable, kids never hurt themselves with them around, know what I mean?
Me: Sure
OD: Damn fine breed. Hmm, when's this bus coming I wonder.
Me: Hopefully soon.
Old Dude: You know what? I saw a new dog breed today!
Me: Um...yeah?
OD: It was the dardenst thing. It was just the darndest thing. A Pomeranian and a, and a, guess...?
Me: Eh
OD: And a...HUSKIE! (laughs) You know Pomeranian is a small dog, I don't usually like those small dogs, always jumping around and talking. But the Huskie, it had those Huskie different colored eyes and that soft, thick, brown fur, just lovely. Called it a, called it a, guess...?
Me: Um
OD: A POMSKIE! (laughs) Can you believe it? Not an official breed yet...but maybe soon!
Me: Uh sure, yeah.
OD: This neighborhood its like everyone has a dog! Not a cat man me, like dogs but medium size ones, or big ones. You know there's a dog breed that can take care of children? Komondor, use them for childcare in Romania.
Me: Ok
OD: You know these big white fluffy dogs they don't like anyone getting too excitable, they PREVENT anyone from getting too excitable, kids never hurt themselves with them around, know what I mean?
Me: Sure
OD: Damn fine breed. Hmm, when's this bus coming I wonder.
Me: Hopefully soon.
Thursday, September 11, 2014
Street Talk 20
Downtown, outside a Northwestern building. A group of young college kids approaches.
College Dude: (nerdy, cocky, looking at my motorcycle helmet) Hey. Hey. What kind you got?
Me: I'm sorry?
College Dude: What kind you got?
Me: Honda VTX.
College Dude: What?
Me: Honda VTX.
College Dude: (scornfully) Oh. That's nothing.
Me: (mystified, slightly irritated, dismissively) All right man.
College Dude: (nerdy, cocky, looking at my motorcycle helmet) Hey. Hey. What kind you got?
Me: I'm sorry?
College Dude: What kind you got?
Me: Honda VTX.
College Dude: What?
Me: Honda VTX.
College Dude: (scornfully) Oh. That's nothing.
Me: (mystified, slightly irritated, dismissively) All right man.
The college kids move on, one turns back.
College Dude#2: I got a 1984 Ninja GPZ900R.
Me: Cool.
College Dude #2: And I just got a Susuki GSX 600. What kind you got again?
Me: Honda VTX. (points) That one.
College Dude #2: Very cool. Don't mind Dave. He doesn't even have a bike.
Me: Have a good night man.
College Dude#2: I got a 1984 Ninja GPZ900R.
Me: Cool.
College Dude #2: And I just got a Susuki GSX 600. What kind you got again?
Me: Honda VTX. (points) That one.
College Dude #2: Very cool. Don't mind Dave. He doesn't even have a bike.
Me: Have a good night man.
Saturday, August 2, 2014
Street Talk 19
Danny, Max, and I outside the Upstairs Gallery. A middle aged woman is walking her dog, the dog poops, she picks it up in a bag and approaches us.
Woman: Can I buy a cigarette?
Me: (smoking) You can have one(I offer her the pack).
Woman: Thank you. Guess who I'm going to see in concert?
Max: I don't know who?
Woman: He's tall, lanky, and blond.
Danny: Neil Diamond.
Max: Keith Urban.
Woman: Rod Stewart. 8th row center.
Danny: Very cool.
Woman: I've been waiting my whole life for this. I'm going through a divorce right now. My husband grabbed me by the throat and choked me. Redneck piece of shit.
Danny: Oh god that's horrible.
Max: Yeah, get outta there.
Woman: If my brother was alive he'd kill him. He was in the Special Forces in Vietnam. He did that Rambo stuff. You seen Rambo?
Me: Yeah.
Woman: That was him but he passed.
Me: Sorry for your loss.
Woman: It was colon cancer that got him. (pause) Have a good night.
Max: You too. (She walks away)
Danny: She was clutching that bag of hot poop in her fist...
Woman: Can I buy a cigarette?
Me: (smoking) You can have one(I offer her the pack).
Woman: Thank you. Guess who I'm going to see in concert?
Max: I don't know who?
Woman: He's tall, lanky, and blond.
Danny: Neil Diamond.
Max: Keith Urban.
Woman: Rod Stewart. 8th row center.
Danny: Very cool.
Woman: I've been waiting my whole life for this. I'm going through a divorce right now. My husband grabbed me by the throat and choked me. Redneck piece of shit.
Danny: Oh god that's horrible.
Max: Yeah, get outta there.
Woman: If my brother was alive he'd kill him. He was in the Special Forces in Vietnam. He did that Rambo stuff. You seen Rambo?
Me: Yeah.
Woman: That was him but he passed.
Me: Sorry for your loss.
Woman: It was colon cancer that got him. (pause) Have a good night.
Max: You too. (She walks away)
Danny: She was clutching that bag of hot poop in her fist...
Tuesday, June 3, 2014
Street Talk 18
Outside 7-Eleven, a 50ish man with gray hair, dirty white t-shirt, stained cargo shorts, obviously drunk.
Old Drunk Man: Hey! Hey! Can I buy a cigarette?
Me: (reading a collection of Mary Oliver poetry, smoking) No, sorry man.
ODM: (shocked) WHAT!? I said buy!
Me: No, sorry man.
ODM: (shows me hand full of pennies and dimes) I have, like, a dollar!
Me: No, sorry.
ODM: (whining) Come on PLEASE!
Me: No.
Guy walks into 7-Eleven presumably to buy cigarettes. Upon leaving he walks within inches of me reading my book mumbling under his breath trying to get me to look up. I don't look up. It's clear he is on the fence about starting some kind of verbal or physical altercation. Before rounding the corner he stops and stands looking at me. I don't look up from a poem about how wonderful it would be to live alone in the mountains.
ODM: (like an angry cat) HISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.
I don't look up. After a minute or two he walks away. I read a poem about the melodious and tranquil chirping of morning birds.
Old Drunk Man: Hey! Hey! Can I buy a cigarette?
Me: (reading a collection of Mary Oliver poetry, smoking) No, sorry man.
ODM: (shocked) WHAT!? I said buy!
Me: No, sorry man.
ODM: (shows me hand full of pennies and dimes) I have, like, a dollar!
Me: No, sorry.
ODM: (whining) Come on PLEASE!
Me: No.
Guy walks into 7-Eleven presumably to buy cigarettes. Upon leaving he walks within inches of me reading my book mumbling under his breath trying to get me to look up. I don't look up. It's clear he is on the fence about starting some kind of verbal or physical altercation. Before rounding the corner he stops and stands looking at me. I don't look up from a poem about how wonderful it would be to live alone in the mountains.
ODM: (like an angry cat) HISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.
I don't look up. After a minute or two he walks away. I read a poem about the melodious and tranquil chirping of morning birds.
Saturday, February 22, 2014
Street Talk 17
Guy: Black folks is different. They watch out for each other...wherever black folks go they watch out for each other...white people- no...asian people- no. Black folks they go to DC, Atlanta, Philly, middle of fuckin' Montana whatever...they watch out for each other. They take care. No matter how many of them there are. They find each other. No matter what. What do white people care about each other? They don't.
Twenty five bucks an hour...y'all make twenty five bucks an hour...shit...we all have the same shit in our lives, go through the same shit...twenty five bucks an hour and a house and a car and a labtop...don't change life...we the same...that shit is always the same...I use to make twenty five dollars a day but I was happier than all y'all...all that shit is stuff...life is the same. All the same.
Friday, January 17, 2014
Street Talk 16
Outside a Dunkin Donuts a woman with bleach blond hair who looked and sounded like Gus from Disney's Cinderella waited for me.
Woman: You got fifty cents?
Me: Sorry.
Woman: Asshole.
There are many perks to living in a big city like Chicago. Being constantly hit up for money and cigarettes ain't one of 'em.
Woman: You got fifty cents?
Me: Sorry.
Woman: Asshole.
There are many perks to living in a big city like Chicago. Being constantly hit up for money and cigarettes ain't one of 'em.
Monday, August 12, 2013
Street Talk 15
Coming out of my apartment building.
Middle Aged Lady: Oh. (surprised) You smell good.
Me: Oh...uh...thanks. I just hopped out of the shower.
MAL: Better than me saying you smell like shit! (cackles)
Me: (chuckle) Yeah. That woulda been a blow to my ego.
MAL: Oh, you smell nice but not like that frufru stuff.
Me: ...?
MAL: I can't stand when men smell like that frufru stuff. You're still suppose to smell like a man ain't ya?
Me: I always thought so.
MAL: I like you.
Me: (I hold the door open for her and smile) I like you.
MAL: And thank you! (half to herself) A gentleman!
Middle Aged Lady: Oh. (surprised) You smell good.
Me: Oh...uh...thanks. I just hopped out of the shower.
MAL: Better than me saying you smell like shit! (cackles)
Me: (chuckle) Yeah. That woulda been a blow to my ego.
MAL: Oh, you smell nice but not like that frufru stuff.
Me: ...?
MAL: I can't stand when men smell like that frufru stuff. You're still suppose to smell like a man ain't ya?
Me: I always thought so.
MAL: I like you.
Me: (I hold the door open for her and smile) I like you.
MAL: And thank you! (half to herself) A gentleman!
Thursday, July 11, 2013
Street Talk 14
I'm riding my bike on the sidewalk the one block from house to Montrose where I'll get on the street. Up ahead is a woman with a 2 year old boy. He's weaving all around the sidewalk awkwardly walking and delighting in it. I smile and hop over to the grass to ride past them and give them the whole sidewalk to maneuver on. The kid stumbles and sits down when I'm about 10 feet away, it's clear he has not seen me or processed my presence, he stumbled over his own feet. As I pass.
Woman: Gee onm thhh fffeeerr rrrrraaa. diii ssss a chiiiii.
She's not mumbling she's just not talking loudly, I thinking she's talking to the kid and I smile at them. It takes me about 10 seconds and 50 feet to process that she actually said "Get on the fucking road. This is a child." At first I'm hit with a cold bucket of shame. I should have stopped and walked the bike. I didn't mean to frighten her and I clearly didn't frighten the kid. Wish she would have known that I was in total control and I thought I was more than far enough away. I think of going back to apologize.
Then I'm hit with a wave of rage. Who the fuck does this lady think she is? I was six feet away from her and her kid. Does she think she owns the sidewalk? Where does she think she's living? This is Chicago, the big fucking City, if you want your kid to have a bubble of safety around him move out to fucking Winnetka. Not only that, this is Uptown off the Wilson Redline stop, not a consummate neighborhood for safety. I think of going back and asking her to repeat herself, think of intimidating her, telling her to move, asking her if she's got a problem and then letting her know I'm her fucking problem.
Needless to say I don't do either. I realize, while she was saying it, all I did was pleasantly smile at her. That's the appropriate reaction, most likely her overprotective mothering instincts just flared up or she had a bad day or she's going through a divorce or break up or she's hungry or she's tired. Whatever it is it's not me and I have no control over it. I look at the shame and the rage and the different hypotheticals, I realize their utter uselessness, take a deep breath and let them go out into the ether.
I continue riding my bike to meet Tisher where we will in the near future share a small plate of extremely sloppy yet delicious lobster stuffed deviled eggs.
Woman: Gee onm thhh fffeeerr rrrrraaa. diii ssss a chiiiii.
She's not mumbling she's just not talking loudly, I thinking she's talking to the kid and I smile at them. It takes me about 10 seconds and 50 feet to process that she actually said "Get on the fucking road. This is a child." At first I'm hit with a cold bucket of shame. I should have stopped and walked the bike. I didn't mean to frighten her and I clearly didn't frighten the kid. Wish she would have known that I was in total control and I thought I was more than far enough away. I think of going back to apologize.
Then I'm hit with a wave of rage. Who the fuck does this lady think she is? I was six feet away from her and her kid. Does she think she owns the sidewalk? Where does she think she's living? This is Chicago, the big fucking City, if you want your kid to have a bubble of safety around him move out to fucking Winnetka. Not only that, this is Uptown off the Wilson Redline stop, not a consummate neighborhood for safety. I think of going back and asking her to repeat herself, think of intimidating her, telling her to move, asking her if she's got a problem and then letting her know I'm her fucking problem.
Needless to say I don't do either. I realize, while she was saying it, all I did was pleasantly smile at her. That's the appropriate reaction, most likely her overprotective mothering instincts just flared up or she had a bad day or she's going through a divorce or break up or she's hungry or she's tired. Whatever it is it's not me and I have no control over it. I look at the shame and the rage and the different hypotheticals, I realize their utter uselessness, take a deep breath and let them go out into the ether.
I continue riding my bike to meet Tisher where we will in the near future share a small plate of extremely sloppy yet delicious lobster stuffed deviled eggs.
Sunday, April 21, 2013
Street Talk 13
(outside 7 Eleven finishing a cigarette)
Guy: Hey! Hey! Big man!
Me: Hey.
Guy: Hey, hey, can you get me a beer man.
Me: No.
Guy: Man, man! I just got thrown out for no reason! I got money just get me a beer.
Me: I'm not going to buy beer.
Guy: OK. Can I get a cigarette?
Me: Sure.
(I give him a cigarette, we smoke together)
Guy: They just through me out man. I was just showing I wasn't racist. Went into the bathroom at this place over there and when I came out this white guy put me in a headlock. And we was about to go. And then bunch of people broke us up. And I knew, it wasn't worth it, I don't hate white people. And I could have took him down.
Me: I'm sure.
Guy: Black people hit hard man. White people hit hard too but black people we got that force. You know, all that force of all that. You know what I mean?
Me: I do.
Guy: Why can't we get along? I don't want to hate white people but this guy just put me in a headlock for no reason. What is that? It should just be the smallest thing now. It should be gone. Why it still here?
Me: I don't know man.
Guy: People got to let out that hate. Let it out. It's poison.
Me: Yeah. We're all still fighting it.
Guy: I walked away. It wasn't worth it. But I told him. I told him. "I'll get you when you're alone." That's when I get 'em. It's his fault: right or wrong?
Me: Right. He put hands on you first, that's not right.
Guy: Why can't we just see each other as people. And give when people need it. Why it have to be all this...all this...(deep sigh)...you know. You an all right white guy.
Me: Thanks man. (pause, I finish my cigarette) I gotta get going man, it was nice talking to you.
Guy: Have a good night big man.
Me: You too.
Guy: (grins) I'll be watchin'.
Me: I'll be watching you man.
Guy: (cackles)
Guy: Hey! Hey! Big man!
Me: Hey.
Guy: Hey, hey, can you get me a beer man.
Me: No.
Guy: Man, man! I just got thrown out for no reason! I got money just get me a beer.
Me: I'm not going to buy beer.
Guy: OK. Can I get a cigarette?
Me: Sure.
(I give him a cigarette, we smoke together)
Guy: They just through me out man. I was just showing I wasn't racist. Went into the bathroom at this place over there and when I came out this white guy put me in a headlock. And we was about to go. And then bunch of people broke us up. And I knew, it wasn't worth it, I don't hate white people. And I could have took him down.
Me: I'm sure.
Guy: Black people hit hard man. White people hit hard too but black people we got that force. You know, all that force of all that. You know what I mean?
Me: I do.
Guy: Why can't we get along? I don't want to hate white people but this guy just put me in a headlock for no reason. What is that? It should just be the smallest thing now. It should be gone. Why it still here?
Me: I don't know man.
Guy: People got to let out that hate. Let it out. It's poison.
Me: Yeah. We're all still fighting it.
Guy: I walked away. It wasn't worth it. But I told him. I told him. "I'll get you when you're alone." That's when I get 'em. It's his fault: right or wrong?
Me: Right. He put hands on you first, that's not right.
Guy: Why can't we just see each other as people. And give when people need it. Why it have to be all this...all this...(deep sigh)...you know. You an all right white guy.
Me: Thanks man. (pause, I finish my cigarette) I gotta get going man, it was nice talking to you.
Guy: Have a good night big man.
Me: You too.
Guy: (grins) I'll be watchin'.
Me: I'll be watching you man.
Guy: (cackles)
Saturday, March 16, 2013
Street Talk 12
(9:50pm in Boystown)
Drunk Southern Man: Excuse me? Excuse me?
Me: Yeah. What's up?
Drunk Southern Man #2: (coy) We're looking for a bar...
Me: Um. What kind of bar?
Drunk Southern Man: You know. A bar-
Drunk Southern Man #2: A bar where men go to have a good time.
Me: Oh yeah, for sure. Up the street here you'll have a bunch of bars you guys would probably like. Or if you go down the street here for a block or two you'll get to Berlin, I think that might be the kind of place you're looking for. It's like a dance club.
Drunk Southern Man #2: Berlin! That's where were going! (puts his arm through mine, we walk together)
Drunk Southern Man: Where are you going?
Me: I have a show right here, an improv comedy show.
Drunk Southern Man #2: That sounds fun!
Me: It is fun but there's no dancing.
Drunk Southern Man: Yeah, we'd probably be disruptive(giggles).
Me: Maybe(smiles). You fella's have a good night!
Drunk Southern Man #2: You too sweetheart and thanks!
Drunk Southern Man: Excuse me? Excuse me?
Me: Yeah. What's up?
Drunk Southern Man #2: (coy) We're looking for a bar...
Me: Um. What kind of bar?
Drunk Southern Man: You know. A bar-
Drunk Southern Man #2: A bar where men go to have a good time.
Me: Oh yeah, for sure. Up the street here you'll have a bunch of bars you guys would probably like. Or if you go down the street here for a block or two you'll get to Berlin, I think that might be the kind of place you're looking for. It's like a dance club.
Drunk Southern Man #2: Berlin! That's where were going! (puts his arm through mine, we walk together)
Drunk Southern Man: Where are you going?
Me: I have a show right here, an improv comedy show.
Drunk Southern Man #2: That sounds fun!
Me: It is fun but there's no dancing.
Drunk Southern Man: Yeah, we'd probably be disruptive(giggles).
Me: Maybe(smiles). You fella's have a good night!
Drunk Southern Man #2: You too sweetheart and thanks!
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
Street Talk 11
(on the bus during the time change 1:59am to 3:10am)
Drunk Guy: You're ok? I can take you home.
Drunk Girl: No. I'm fine. I just have a couple more stops.
Drunk Guy: OK. Get home safe. (exits bus)
Evil Drunk Guy: (loud wisper) Go talk to her(giggles).
Evil Drunk Girl: Hey. Who was that creep?
Drunk Girl: Oh Tosh! He's nice! I've known him since 5th grade.
Evil Drunk Guy: Tosh point creep!
Evil Drunk Girl: Why didn't you go home with him? He was trying to go home with you and you kept on putting your leg up.
Drunk Girl: Tosh? No! He's a friend! I'd put my leg up for anybody! Wooooooo!(puts leg up on rail behind stranger getting off the bus).
Evil Drunk Girl: I mean what are you doing, he was all over you, you should be careful.
Drunk Girl: What? Tosh? Oh thanks I'm ok, I'm getting off at this stop. (fake sweet) You are the best. See you on the next bus ride! (exits)
Evil Drunk Guy: Did you hear my Tosh.0 joke?
Evil Drunk Girl: God. That guy was such a creep, he was talking all these girls he had fucked. God, that girl was fucking idiot.
Random Drunk Girl: This is the best bus ride ever! Lets do this every week!
Drunk Guy: You're ok? I can take you home.
Drunk Girl: No. I'm fine. I just have a couple more stops.
Drunk Guy: OK. Get home safe. (exits bus)
Evil Drunk Guy: (loud wisper) Go talk to her(giggles).
Evil Drunk Girl: Hey. Who was that creep?
Drunk Girl: Oh Tosh! He's nice! I've known him since 5th grade.
Evil Drunk Guy: Tosh point creep!
Evil Drunk Girl: Why didn't you go home with him? He was trying to go home with you and you kept on putting your leg up.
Drunk Girl: Tosh? No! He's a friend! I'd put my leg up for anybody! Wooooooo!(puts leg up on rail behind stranger getting off the bus).
Evil Drunk Girl: I mean what are you doing, he was all over you, you should be careful.
Drunk Girl: What? Tosh? Oh thanks I'm ok, I'm getting off at this stop. (fake sweet) You are the best. See you on the next bus ride! (exits)
Evil Drunk Guy: Did you hear my Tosh.0 joke?
Evil Drunk Girl: God. That guy was such a creep, he was talking all these girls he had fucked. God, that girl was fucking idiot.
Random Drunk Girl: This is the best bus ride ever! Lets do this every week!
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Street Talk 10
Walking home from the bus, 10:13pm.
Man In Jeep: (Spanish accent) Excuse me!
Me: Yes?
Man In Jeep: Do you know the closest...eh...video store in the area? Could you...eh...tell me of any video stores...eh...not Blockbusters...eh...adult video stores?
Me: (pause) I couldn't. No. (exits)
Man In Jeep: (Spanish accent) Excuse me!
Me: Yes?
Man In Jeep: Do you know the closest...eh...video store in the area? Could you...eh...tell me of any video stores...eh...not Blockbusters...eh...adult video stores?
Me: (pause) I couldn't. No. (exits)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)