Feb4 2022
And I've been putting out fire….
WITH GASOLINE
I didn’t have any quarters. He didn’t like that.
By the look in his eye I could tell he’d rip my watch off and pawn it for his quarters.
Maybe I should start carrying change.
Carrying change or even a dollar bill could help ease these situations. Why do I chase this? Eyeing down homeless until they holler out.
This is the perk of a tier 3 city. In NYC, Chicago, LA, SF, Atlanta, you’ll get stabbed for something this dumb. Not here. It’s too small. The thing about bigger cities is people hide in the numbers. You could mug somebody in NYC, run down an alley or two, take off your jacket, hat, covid mask, then walk back up the same street past your victim without being caught. Not here. Too open, too few people. The homeless intuit this. It creates an interesting safety ‘barrier.’
This is the only reason I allow myself to get down in gritty.
“No quarters huh, do you like brownies?”
The girl I’m with etches closer, fingers gripped into my tricep. Don’t blame her. He asked if I like brownies while reaching in to the pocket of his sweatshirt.
Thank you Levi you know how much my ego needs messages like this! Head so big I can’t fit out the front door! Preciate you G.
We can all say we enjoy brownies yes? But this scene really honed in the idea of environment mattering more than taste. Same reason you don’t eat dinner in the bathroom. Whole vibe is off. If we were at old country farm house with plate of brownies seducing from center of gingham table cloth covered dining table, i’d pounce. But here. Now. With crusty lipped mad eyed potentially unhinged Man reaching into his pockets for these brownies….
“No, laying off the sugar”
His hand relaxes at the expense of my curiosity. Atleast seeing what was in the pocket would have been worth dragging on this conversational direction. But it ended abruptly when he said,
“you know who I am don’t you?”
Asking this question is always a negative for everyone.
Remember hearing the cliche in college, on TFM, old row, etc “Do you know who my dad is?” no bitch now it’s awkward for everybody.
“I can’t say I do”
“I’m the dancing man. I dance for quarters. I know ballet”
I’m about to get stabbed by a homeless, former ballerina over quarters infront of my girl.
Ashamed? No. What a way to go out! I only hope he spares her. Now reading this you may think the tension in the conversation has relaxed. Ahhh, ha-ha, crack a smile at his joke. Except tension can’t relax when the other party is still mean mugging you (internally deciding where on your body to take his first plunge)
You also can’t laugh yourself because if it’s not a joke you’ve only pissed him off more. Scenes like this make me feel like I’m in a Stanley Kubrick movie on the way to the climax.
“Ballet? Let me see.”
And in a flash his arms swing up. The double plush orange winter jacket squeezing together at his shoulders nearly swallows his head. His hands lock together, outstretched above his head in an ironically soft motion. The whole thing is intensified by his glaring eyes never once leaving mine.
It felt sensual.
Did he love me?
Tim is good fren. Tim, I’m glad to hear you’re conquering drugs brother. Stay strong. Raw Dogging life is difficult for Man with much going on in head.. Takes strength. Proud of you.
He lifts his left leg, raises his right so his whole body weighs on the balls of that foot.
He spins, spins again, and again.
He twist 5 times until stopping right back where he started in an extremely calculated manner.
Hmmmm.. I feel challenged. My girl is probably turned on. Should I dance off with this hulking 6’4 hobo to prove myself?
“Damn, that was nice I can’t lie.”
“Told you”
I gave him $5 and left.
This is the kind of philosophy to have about life. It’s always served me better than the alternative. Invited the weirdness in. Let it flow. Don’t be an anxious little freak, hesitating back and forth like a bunny rabbit eating grass in an open field patrolled by hawks.
Be comfortable with the strangeness. Learn the levels of weird shit you can handle and experience them in fullness!
ps. If you get stabbed by a homeless man do not blame Winston. It’s your own fault for acting in a way that provoked him.
Use your genius to know who and who not to mess with.
(doesn’t have to be homeless btw. My mom has an otherworldly habit of getting strangers to be weird. I grew up watching this and it always made life more exciting than the mundane how are you, hey, what’s up, etc.)
Life’s ONLY what you make it. If you’re bored on our weird World, blame only yourself.
ps.
I’ll be posting about Patreon just to get some traction there and telegram. The first 50 joiners catch a follow on Insta and Twitter. If you can support, I’d be grateful, but if not I promise to never stop these writings here.
Also starting this weekend/next week will be taking these writings to Twitter. Since first post in December I’ve only released them to Instagram (where I get maybe a 10th of the traction I get on Twitter)
In for a wild ride. Hope you buckle up alongside me!
Tell me something crazy:
Much love
Winston
Souled Idea
The Street Preacher
Houdini’s Evil Twin
