|BART train during commute|
An overweight hipster's backpack was hanging in my face. At least I had a seat. For many others this was the black hole of Calcutta on wheels and they were standing, clinging to a long metal bar for balance.
There was a young otherwise attractive woman with an ugly growth on her lip. Maybe she couldn't do anything about it but certainly the black polyester pants were under her control. Except for the driver's stop announcements it was desperately quiet in my car. As if we were all fellow survivors of a particularly difficult workday all too drained to utter a word. I thought about shouting out a request for a sing along. A proper knees up in mid commute. But on further reflection I opted to join in the dour silence. No one likes a smart ass anyway.
|Tommy James and the Shondells|
So the gym where all went as planned. More sauntering strolling sashaying and the like. Walked by a little kids' park. There were two very young women perhaps in their late teens cavorting on a play structure. They were mocha colored speaking French wearing short dresses no shoes and were gorgeous. I imagined the 20 year old men beholding the site of them. I would have melted into a puddle of eternal ecstasy. As a bit of an old codger I merely enjoyed the moment and went on my way.
You ever feel a person wasn't quite polite enough? On MUNI the other day a guy dropped a folded up stroller and it whacked me in the knee. He said, "sorry" but it was half hearted and perfunctory. It would have done if he bumped me with a pillow but for a whack on the knee I'm thinking a long drawn out "I'm so sorry" would be appropriate. One of those apologies where you begin to feel bad for the person apologizing and you finally respond with an "it's okay, really." An hour later I'm nearing the gym and this woman walking in front of me gets her YMCA ID card out. As she does a five dollar bill floats out out of her purse and lands in front of me. I could have pocketed the fiver as easy as you please with no one the wiser but I did one of those "excuse me, excuse me," deals. When she turned I handed her the five saying it fell out of her purse. "Gosh, thanks," was her response. It was a thanks worthy of passing the salt, for retrieving a finn it was totally inadequate and made me think I was a sap for returning it. I'd have gone with a "oh, thank you, thank you very much that's so nice of you." What're ya gonna do?
Last week I got a response to a recent blog post in which some college tootsie rips me down one side and the up the other. She had the nerve to assail me for being angry, snarky and having a generally piss poor view of humanity. Surprised she left out my predilection for kitten torture. What I had done was poke a little fun at a small time business and its hokey marketing techniques. I DID NOT NAME THE BUSINESS. No harm done. What I like to do is express irritation outrage and annoyance on this blog. It gets it out of my system and makes me feel better and makes me a nicer member of the human race. Also some people may read such rantings and ravings and relate in some small way and thus themselves feel better. We do that. We complain and kvetch to one another because the whole shared experience makes us feel part of a whole rather than isolated lonely creatures.
Life is okay. Trust me on this one.
Now if we could just get Robin Williams back. That whole deal stunk. Drug addiction and depression. I know from this stuff but Williams was clearly on a more intimate level with great waves of depression than I have ever been. Being driven to the point of suicide is beyond my understanding. I've followed, enjoyed and been inspired by Robin Williams since the days of Mork and Mindy. I even enjoyed his show on last season's TV schedule, The Crazy Ones, and was disappointed it wasn't picked up for another season. I wish Robin could be picked up for many more seasons on Earth. RIP.