(no subject)

[scabbypants]

The hobos here are vibrant and colorful. There's one man who spends his days sitting down with an old blanket draped over his shoulders, rocking back and forth and smiling radiantly at things only he can see. I think he's naked under the blanket, but he might be wearing a flesh-colored loincloth. It's hard to tell because, in much the same manner that you would attempt to spot an SEP (Somebody Else's Problem), one doesn't look at him directly, you only catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye. It's really hard to tell what sort of underwear someone is wearing- or indeed if they're wearing any at all- when you're observing them in this manner. Take that down.

Then there's the one-armed man, who introduced himself to me today. I was walking down the street and couldn't help but notice a very smelly, filthy, repugnant man with a missing limb hollering about how well he spoke English (but not French). Then we made eye contact- a fatal error in hobo-observing protocol- whereupon he kicked me in the shins rather hard and hollered "menage-a-trois!" I walked away from this exchange wearing a smile that just about bisected my head.

I seem to be back on top of the world. Dan and Javier's show is weird and wonderful and witty, and all sorts of other very positive descriptions beginning with 'w'. It's people like this who brighten even the darkest recesses of my mind. Colorful and vibrant, like my favorite hobos of the world.