That I have mentioned before that my coffee consumption was rare prior to a move to The Windy City seems quite likely. But one thing I have strived to do is not make myself reliant and thus the terrible person many of us can become without the thing, so often a substance, that we have come to rely upon. This, of course, is related to the everything in moderation rule. And I allege non-reliance in spite of being able to nod off or, at least, wanting to, immediately post cup during the holiday. That I attribute to heavy consumption of carbohydrates and sweets, increased running, and decreased sleeping instead. Why in the Hell do I bring any of this up? Well because I'm seated sipping a cup, perhaps a little too late in the day, but nothing a couple of drinks at dinner can't balance out.
I was thinking not for the first time about the image I project with my haircut, fashion, and also by the places I choose to hang-out. A penchant for a cheap drink at a local establishment that is a true dive and home to derelicts galore—what this says of me, I will not bother to say—is what seems to have gotten me on this particular occasion. As I walked down the street, on the phone mind you, a man walked toward me repeating the word "blow." A lot. "Blow, blow, blow, blow, blow, blow, blow, blow, blow," and, in case I missed that, a grabbing of the nose to go along with it. I'll admit, it did take me a second to grasp what he was talking about. When he came upon me he was even more direct, "You gotta any blow, man."
"Sorry dude," I had to tell him for I, in fact, never have consumed this powdery nose substance—though this is not the first time I have been taken for one who does—and I really was apologetic.
"Come on, maaaaaaaan," he went on. "I've seen you at ________. Quit holding out on me."
Repeating myself I suggested he make his way to the very place he had seen me, the derelict bar in question. There was more to the exchange, but that seems good enough for now, especially with regard to preserving the anonymity of people and places in question (although it's not as if I know this guy's name). The point, to go along with my reconsidering my image, is to be amused at the way I was looking around with my senses when this occurred, expecting that someone might give a shit about a wasted guy looking for a score from pretty much a total stranger. I am routinely intrigued by how much is going on right around us that we are completely ignorant to.
But image is nothing anyway.
Well, there are the usual things and stuff I've forgotten to mention, but I'm already at the point where I feel as if I may have made this entry long enough. Shout out to the east coast for delicious bagels and the availability of high quality, non-deep dish pizza. Shout out to hills and making me tired as shit while running but I appreciate them for improved fitness. Shout out to the dopey face—complete with open mouth and mildly fear-ridden eyes—some woman just made looking for a seat up in this bitch. And shout out to mistakes via me accidentally ordering a tuna sub the other day! My crusty ass expected the sandwich to have fresh tuna. How would that have been possible when it was cheaper than every sandwich on the menu? Oh cheapness, you are always fooling me.