These are hard times, times for keeping your head down, avoiding the notice of the dark cloud of black karma that hovers over us at all times, reaching down to strike without warning.
Ok, so I got nothing to go with that, its just an angst filled emo line that came to me while I was driving.
I have been watching Glee on Netflix.
I am not proud of that, but it is what it is.
A friend of mine is obsessed with it and has harassed me nonstop for the last few years.
So I watched the first few episodes.
I like it.
For the record, that is not like coming out of the closet or anything like that, its just a show.
I am writing this blog at 1:30am, 3.5 hours from now it will post on the site.
Why am I up so late writing?
Because I have the time management skills of a 5 year old, combined with a Catholic/Irish guilt driven work ethic that gives me insomnia and the drive to finish this.
I would love to go to bed, but the bitch fest of emails I get when the blog is late is no fun.
And I do love fun.
I was in Hollywood earlier tonight.
I had a thing starting at 7 but got there really early, early enough to walk up Hollywood Blvd to Starbucks for a cup of coffee.
“My foots asleep.”
I looked at the little homeless woman who said that.
Under 5 feet, not over a hundred pounds, more of the hummingbird class of homeless.
And she was looking at me.
I have no idea why she would want me to know that her foot is asleep, but you play the cards you are dealt.
“No its not.” When in doubt, disagree, it gets things going.
“Its been asleep all day.” She glared at me, angry that I would dispute her claim.
“Maybe its dead.”
Ok, in retrospect, that was the wrong thing to say.
If you have never had an 80 pound enraged homeless woman come at you like a tornado made of a few teeth, broken fingernails and the scent of BO, but the adrenaline rush is stunning.
Messing with the homeless is sometimes bad mojo, I have accepted that.
And while it doesn’t make me a nice person, I am at peace with it in a shallow way.
A half block later, I slowed to a walk, the stamina of todays homeless is sorely lacking.
This is one of my rare forays into night coffee.
I am not sure its a good thing and it might explain why I am still awake at 1:30am.
In a gesture of goodwill bordering on being a pussy, I walked back on the other side of the street.
Best not to push it.
And I struck oil on this side of the street.
The guy looks like a total hippy.
But he sings like a bird.
His guitar playing is impeccable.
I stood mesmerized for a good five minutes then put a buck in his open guitar case.
And then I walked away, down the block.