Monday, March 07, 2005

My hair hurts

Well, I wanted to get a story done today. Only I didn't, I was in this mood that just made it impossible to focus all morning and afternoon, which turned into a headache by the time I left that turned me into Phineas Gage.

On the way home I passed a homeless man sitting on the sidewalk playing the saxophone. Next to him was a sign that read:

but not sitting
on my
shaking a

I walked about 30 feet and stopped. I remembered the guy I saw squatting on the sidewalk this morning, snarling, smoking, waving his hand for change and looking at me like I was obligated by law to give him money. (He didn't get a cent, while those that smile and act nice do, from time to time).

I went back and put a dollar in the can of the musician. He may have been horribly out of key, but he made me chuckle when I felt like I had an iron rod jammed through my skull, and that counts for something.

And he used the word "Arse," which I find interesting on its own, for some reason.


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