Tuesday, March 22, 2005

 

There's a man in my neighborhood who walks around talking to himself. He must have some thing going on in his head cuz its rare that he doesn't sound angry, or that he's cursing. It's always something that you wouldnt want to hear out loud. He sounds like he's nuts and he's never with anyone. He sounds like he hasn't seen a sane day in a long time. He sounds like he's talking to someone that isnt there. He always lookes at the ground as he walks briskly from one corner to the next, and I have only seen him standing still once. He was yelling at passing cars that day, on the corner of Lincoln and 4th ave.

I passed him a couple of days ago, and he was angry with his imaginary friends. He's prolly 55 years old, but I'm a bad judge of that. His hair is messy and white, and his face is always screwed up like he'd eaten lemons. His hands fly around his head, like swatting away bugs, but its clear that this is how he talks to himself; shouting, berating his imaginary companions, and waving hands frantically.

I wanted to follow him, with a notebook and write what he says down to tell you, for he has some interesting things to say now and again. Not that I want to befriend him, no. More that I think his rambling might be just nonsensical enough to create a new story. Sure that is a little like leeching, but who cares, right? It wouldn't hurt.

posted by Hog 8:43 AM