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:
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.
On the way home I passed a homeless man sitting on the sidewalk playing the saxophone. Next to him was a sign that read:
HOMELESS
but not sitting
on my
ARSE
shaking a
cup
but not sitting
on my
ARSE
shaking a
cup
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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