friday night pick-up

The other day–Men Suck day–Fergie and I decided we wanted to start our own band. She would rock out on drums and I would play the classical guitar. Our sound would consist of Fergie yelling angrily into a microphone in true punk fashion. After the audience became so riled up and on the edge, I would play a few chords on my guitar and sing in a soft lyrical voice. We would work up to another crescendo, and then our young, innocent, never experienced a bad day in her life, naive, unhardened, unbitter virgin of a girl on a flute would break in at regulated intervals. Through it all, we’d have DJ spinning electro music to harmonize the strange cacophony.

We will call our band Bunny Stew.


Tonight I fell asleep on the bus, only to be awoken by persistent shaking of my arm. I awoke; startled, and looked to my right. And older Chinese lady started speaking to me in chinese, but being that I was in my dreamlike state, it was almost as if I could understand her.

She asked me if I was chinese, etc, and then when she discovered I wasn’t, she engaged in conversation with a group of asian kids on the bus. I watched her, and listened as if I could understand.

It occurred to me that she was lonely–and just looking for someone to talk to. The realization of this broke my heart.

We began talking–me in truncated sentences, and she in her broken English. We discovered that we lived on the same street, just a few houses away from one another. She had spent the day in chinatown, shopping. She told me she loved to shop, and that she spent the whole day there, walking from shop to shop, street to street.

I helped her carry her shopping bags to her house and she thanked me as she said goodbye. I felt compelled to invite her to dinner or invite her for a game of cards, but I didn’t. I said goodbye, and made sure she got into her house okay.

Isn’t it strange though to meet someone on a bus at a certain time and place–someone you probably have seen a million times on the street, but never said hello? Isn’t it odd that of all the seats on the bus, we happened to sit together? And isnt it weird how we could barely communicate with one another, yet I felt a strange connection to her?

And now, that we’ve met, Im sure Ill see her all the time.

Weird how things work out like that. Seems so random, and at the same time, so coincidental.

Of course its just my luck that this whole kismet thing happened with a senior citizen. Who knows, maybe its a sign of things to come. Like maybe that “special somone” is right here under my nose–on the same street, even–and i dont even know it.


Running 7 miles tomorrow. I hope it rains.
Don’t i say that every single friday night?

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