Saturday, June 09, 2012


About a decade or so ago I was walking through the San Francisco night.  I caught a glimpse of a figure standing alone in a dark doorway talking to himself.   Thinking it a homeless person,  a few steps on I realized it was someone talking on their cell phone.  Mental maps were redrawn, and soon this scene became ubiquitous.

Today, I saw a homeless person propped up beside a bridge, texting on a cellphone.  After a few more revolutions of my pedals, I noticed that he was merely passed out, hands clasped in his lap.

Now where did I leave that mental eraser?

On the turntable:  Roxy Music, "Heart still Beating'

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