There was an old man in the coffee shop this morning, though probably not as old as me. He was skinny, somewhat rumpled, with stringy gray hair, and he danced in his chair to the recorded jazz the coffee shop played. Gotta like a man who dances in his chair.
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| #136 Thursday, April 28, 2022 |
Then he stood, stretched, and danced on the floor for a few moments. Not so sure about a man who dances in a coffee shop — hot stuff could get spilled — but it gave me a clear view of his table, where he had an open laptop, and (far more interesting) a bright red pamphlet that might have been a zine.
He was wearing a scruffy, stained jacket and had another jacket more stained on the seat beside him, and three bags (two paper and one plastic) full of stuff at his feet. I was curious, but he was probably homeless or at least a complicated fellow, and my bus was due in ten minutes. Some other morning, maybe.
Then I pooped, and washed my hands with the coffee shop’s lilac soap. Ick. Knew it would leave my hands smelling weirdly sweet all day, but that’s a little bit better than smelling like poop.
At home my soap is unscented, and so’s my detergent and dishsoap. I believe that things (including me) should smell like what they are, not like the chemically-induced reproduction of some other smell.
When I emerged from the john, the complicated fellow was gone, but when I walked to my bus stop, he was waiting for the same bus as me. I checked the schedule, helpfully posted on the bus stop’s post, and announced my finding: “Bus in six minutes.”
♦ ♦ ♦The sign in front of a church near my house: “Please pray for Ukraine and for peace in Europe.”
That’s nice, I guess, but utterly meaningless, ain’t it? I grow less patient with the falderol as I grow older, and since I’m damned old, that makes me damned impatient.
♦ ♦ ♦Back in Seattle during a spring when the Mariners are doing well, I’ve found myself starting to give a damn about baseball again. Well, half a damn, maybe.
It’s been a long time since I cared about millionaire athletes, and I’m still annoyed at all the stupidity in baseball’s management. A lockout in the off-season, Designated Hitter everywhere, they’re screwing with the minor leagues, etc, etc, and now they start extra innings with a runner on second base? Jeez, they don’t do anything that rinky-dink even in Little League.
And yet… my brother took me to an M’s game, and they lost, but it was fun. And the local team’s management seems to be waking up — instead of pricing poor people and families out of the ball park, the team has lowered prices to some games, and for some concessions. Now it’s possible to take the bus to a ball game ($2.75), buy a ticket ($10), and grab a hot dog and a beer ($3 each), and it adds up to less than twenty bucks, which isn’t exactly cheap but wouldn’t bankrupt me.
I’m still not spending that money, though. Why would I, when my brother is willing to take me to a game once in a while?
Plus, here’s a signal no less cosmic than “If you build it, they will come.” On my cheap AM/FM radio, if I listen to the M’s games on the AM station that carries the play by play, when they break for endless annoying commercials every half-inning, I can simply switch to FM and it instantly clicks over to KEXP, the non-commercial rock’n’roll station. After a few innings I’m mostly listening to KEXP, and switching to AM once in a while to check the score.
♦ ♦ ♦
On a route I didn’t know, the bus turned down a street with a name not the same but sorta similar to a girl’s last name, and — hello, weird memories. Jeez, I haven’t even thought of Sharon DiMassi in years, maybe decades. She was damned close to completely forgotten, until the robotic voice on the bus announced something that sounded like her name.
So Sharon and I never even held hands, which is fine with me. I have no idea where she is now, and very little interest. I don’t remember squat about her except her name, that she was cute, a few double-dates, and a few of her wisecracks. I hope she’s happy with her life, and found true love with the black man of her dreams.
For me, life turned out damned well. A much better woman than I deserved came along, and we had a happy marriage till death us do part. But the currents that carried us to each other seem so very fragile and fleeting and fateful in retrospect, that if anything had pulled either of us in a slightly different direction, we never would’ve met.
♦ ♦ ♦From my internet history…
♦ Santa Claus is running for Congress
♦ The story of Scrotie, the dick-and-balls hockey mascot
♦ Harvard sets up $100 million endowment fund for slavery reparations
♦ MAGA dipshits have breached eight elections systems: Reuters♦ Biden issues his first round of clemency actions, and none of them are for former business associates or campaign workers
♦ Conservative warns Trump coup attempt was “dry run” for 2024
♦ Chase Bank in flames, and it’s beautiful
♦ ♦ ♦One-word newscast, because it’s the same news every time…
• climate
• cops • cops • cops • cops • cops
• Republicans • Republicans
• Trump
♦ ♦ ♦
The End
• Klaus Schulze
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