Sinners, every last one of us

I have told you about that whole Asking-thing, yeah?

People ask me the darndest things randomly in the street – one of my favourties is still “what date is it?” but we’ve got a strong contender now.

I was accosted as per the usual arrangement, not as randomly as it might seem by a pair of gentlemen of an early Sunday morning.

And I guess that’s just how it takes you sometimes. You wake up in a foreign city early a Sunday morning with an unpleasant taste in your mouth and a dire need to attend mass and quite possibly confess your sins. Excess or guilt or maybe just good habits – or really, really bad ones are going to dictate your behaviour anyway and well…  We all need direction at times, I guess.

I’m well beyond pondering what makes people chose me to ask. I either look like someone who has their shit together or I look like a sinner, and that’s fine with me. Both and neither are equally true.

The scary part is I could actually point the gentlemen in the direction if the nearest Catholic church.

I am a lamb.

ROL

Mad man howler monkeys and Tom Waits

I find lots of things to ponder when it comes to human behaviour. My own as well as other peoples. On a scale from one to ten, most people manage pretty well when it comes to interactions with other human beings, given variables like time, place and situation.

That being said…

I generally like to listen to music when I go out and about. There is a reason for that. I actually don’t want to hear the drivel spoken around me. I have problems maintaining my faith in mankind as we stand and I don’t need to make that harder than it already is.

Picture if you will, me ambling along – or, actually I keep a pretty spanking pace… well, anyway, I walking, okay? The weather today has been one of those hazy, humid and hot kind of days when you don’t know if it’s fog or heat haze or smog making you squint. I got Heartattack and Vine going on my MP3, my sweat tacky shirt is sticking to the small of my back, the lazy wind tries to dispel some of the city funk and Tom Waits is singing “don’t you know there ain’t no devil, there’s just god when he’s drunk” when a car passes me by.

It’s got three guys in tank tops in it. They look like rejects from some cheap New Jack City -wannabe gangster movie, complete with bad tattoos and even worse music belting out of the surprisingly crappy car stereo.
The guy in the back seat leans out and screams at me.
No – seriously.
He literally leans out of the window and lets loose the yowling holler of a howler monkey trapped on an electrical fence.

My only response to that kind of thing is … ? …

See this is what I don’t understand about human behaviour.

I have the kind of mind that immediately sets to work on that kind of thing. It runs lightning quick through scenarios that would merit that kind of action. The why? The what? The many variables including heat and light and timing involved in such behaviour.

Unfortunately I think it’s actually quite possible that the only explanation is that the guy was an idiot. Eh, what are you gonna do?

Meanwhile Tom says:

Doctor, lawyer, beggar man, thief, Philly Joe remarkable looks on in disbelief,
if you want a taste of madness, you’ll have to wait in line, you’ll probably
see someone you know on Heartattack and Vine.

Damned straight.

ROL