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The Insanity Revelation.

24 Oct

A homeless woman screaming at traffic outside of a Coffee Bean in the wee hours of the morning will always catch my eye.

But a homeless woman screaming scripture at traffic will pull me in like a moth to a bug light.

I applaud both her general nuttiness and her faith, because they both seem pretty strong.

But what is it about Revelations that draws the insane mind to it?

I have run into a bakers half dozen of these street preacher/screamers in the past and every one of them was spouting the final book of the bible like it was the only one they knew. And maybe it was.

There is almost a hope that they would take a break and at least read Mathew 6. (For you heathen types, thats the passage that says to go pray alone in your room.)

But, her reasons for not doing it could be as simple as not having a private room to pray in.

The world is her room.

And dammit, its a noisy room.

I got my scone and a coffee and had a seat on the patio to watch.

I would have bought the crazy lady something, but she was out here the other morning screaming about “YOU DON’T KNOW MY LIFE” and I bought her a scone. For a moment, I thought she was going to come after me.

And when a 400lbs crazy woman with a scone turns on you, haul ass.

Because you don’t want whats coming.

There is not a technique in modern martial arts to drop 400lbs coming at you like a BO scented tornado.

You could get her in a couple of arm bars, break both of her arms and she may still come at you like the homeless version of the walking dead.

Little Lulu here could use a prop, something for people to focus on.

I once saw a homeless guy in Reno screaming Revelations at traffic with a 3 foot tall dark mahogany cross that he carried in front of him like he was the Majordomo.

She could use that here.

It would also ratchet up her danger factor and practically guaranty a visit from Santa Monica’s finest.

Because nothing fixes things quicker than a visit from the boys in blue. (Alright, boys in black. You got me.)

And despite my vicious attacks on the Coffee Bean, their clientele and the average age of customers being 92, I have come to enjoy both their coffee and their ambiance.

There is less of a shotgun approach to their music that is fairly pleasant on the whole.

And they don’t switch from one musical genre to another like they have the attention span of a ferret on meth. (Small rodents are not known for their addictions. Outside of a laboratory that is.)

The overall musical effect is one that backs my teeth away from that terminal itch feeling I have come to know so well.

What is it about these coffee houses that attracts me so?

Oh, caffeine addiction. Right. Forgot for second.

Glad I cleared that up.

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Posted by on October 24, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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