Fine, thanks - you? 22 July 1998

Last night I was walking home up 3rd Street, growling to myself and trying to remember to not be run over. Homeless guy starts spare-changing me; one of the young blond hippie types, relatively clean but sandals without socks on a pretty chilly, foggy night. He was carrying what looked like a laundry basket. I just mumbled something like "No, sorry." and kept walking. Sometimes people just give up on you when they do that, sometimes they don't. He didn't. He started to walk up the street with me, having some kind of conversation that I couldn't really understand, but that I might have been part of whether I was there or not.

I just kept walking. He didn't keep going for long, only till the corner, finally giving up with a comment that I think was "Thanks for sharing, man."

I thought to myself, "Oh man, you just do NOT know what kind of day I have had today, don't even start this with me." Then it occurred to me, I had no idea what kind of day he had had either. But I bet it wasn't any bowl of Jello. So maybe I should just stop whining, hmm?

Then, of course, I ran back and found him, and bought him the biggest goose in the butcher's window. And it was said from that day forward, that no man knew how to keep Christmas like me. Particularly in July.

Willfully blind self-indulgent nebbish or amusingly quirky old coot? And how bout that local sports team? Discuss among yourselves.

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All names are fake, most places are real, the author is definitely unreliable but it's all in good fun. Yep. © 1998-1999 Lighthouse for the Deaf. All rights reserved and stuff. The motto at the top of the page is a graffito I saw on Brunswick Street in Melbourne.