my busy life

On Saturday morning, I decided to go downtown with Brigid and see Paul's art in a show. Brigid got ready a little bit before me, as I was still busy surfing the internet. I was grabbing my bag and stuffing any activity books I could think of that I might want to work on while I'm out. I had my jacket on was just about ready, when Brigid, standing in the doorway, says," There is a bus in two minutes."
I stopped what I what doing.
And although I could have quickly stood up and joined her, apparently I cannot be rushed into getting ready. 
All my will to get out of the house went through the front door with brigid before I could.
"You go ahead. If I don't make the bus, I'll meet you downtown."
I didn't want to stand up right after saying that and go out to wait for the bus, like I could have. There had to be some buffer room between her leaving and me. So, the next bus would be a fine one to catch. I went back to internet surfing for just a few minutes and also turned on the TV to have in the background. I like the noise.   
Six hours and a movie and-a-half later,  I still had my coat on, ready to go.  Brigid came home and there I was, still ready to go, as if time stood still at home during the time she was gone.  And, in reality, it kinda of had because I had not changed at all...  Well, maybe the Doritos bag was a bit on a lighter side, but thats it! ...That and one sandwich worth of sandwich stuff, but thats it!  Brigid just smiled at me and I think I died just a little inside because of the power of American Classic Television, like Divorce Court.

Pickles and Starbursts

It was cold. The wind was blowing and I didn't have a warm jacket. The wind blew harder here, it seemed, because of how big this intersection is.  As I stood on Randolf and State street in Chicago, facing the intersection, I wondered why torturing myself with the cold was a better idea than staying in the warm tea shop.  But then again, asking myself why I do most things I do is a battle I am not prepared to be champion of.  A man with long gray hair stood, facing the center of the intersection, held his arms up, as if reaching for heaven, and preached to the everybody. "Repent!" He screamed.  No one payed him any attention. I was just glad he wasn't talking to me.  I'd seen him before over on Michigan Avenue doing the same thing and actually, wearing the same thing. Which is weird because he was still, now, wearing a big t-shirt and slacks in the dead, freezing winter and he remained untouched by the bitter cold.  I stood motionless, facing him, going through everything I had in my pockets, curling up like a caterpillar, trying to stay warm.  To my right, a homeless man sat on the ground, leaning against a power box.  He is always there and every time I see him I am surprised to see he is actually still alive. He shakes a cup for change.  I was still digging my hands in my pockets and noticed a man on my left who kept looking at me as if he needed me to know something.  He'd look away and then back at me. His face said he cared about a young, homeless man like me.  Either that or, or he was losing a fruitless battle with the cold night.  He didn't look at me though, and say, "boy, what a fruitless night, eh?" He turned my way as if to give me some money or words of encouragement the same time the loud preaching man finally took a break, turned around as well and walked towards me.  In the same moment both men were coming towards me, I found what I was fumbling for in my pocket for the last few moments. Through all the loose change I always have and my keys, the starburst candy I wanted was finally in my grasp.  The preacher was smiling in my direction and coming at me.  It only made me unwrap that artificial lemon flavored square of sunshine juice even faster to get out of the pickle I was in. After jumping out of that man-triangle, I shuffled back into the warm tea shop where someone had all the free cookies I could stuff in my face.