Monday, January 10, 2011


Sooooooooo on New Years Day I decided to walk over and pay a visit to my five-year-old friend Daisy and her thirtysomething momma A. While on my way I hesitated briefly in front of a clothing store window, and as I was about to pick my way over a big puddle of weirdly-colored vomit a man came stumbling out of the store towards me with his arms outstretched.

He couldn't have looked more homeless if he tried: unshaven, shabby clothes, all his teeth broken off at the roots. His speech was even garbled; I remember hearing "raaahhhrrrrrrr" as he made his way towards me.

Turns out he was trying to lean in for a kiss. And he was mentally handicapped. So I felt a little guilty for rebuffing him, and I let him take my hand and kiss it and we wished each other Happy New Year. Then he introduced himself to me as "Steven" and I told him my name. He put the palm of his hand on my cheek and said god bless you and I said god bless you and went on my way.

Fast-forward to this past Friday morning. Walnut and I are making our way to breakfast in a different part of town, and I am telling her all about my New Year's kiss from Steven, when the door of the dry-cleaning place next to the cafe we're about to walk into opens up and a plastic spoon comes flying out, and lands on the sidewalk. I look through the glass door from whence the spoon came and hey! It's Steven! I excitedly point this out to Walnut.

"Bit of a litterbug," Walnut remarked.



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