So I'm at Cafe Abir, again, and the crazy-ass barista (the one who didn't mistake me for Matt Damon my first two times here) just christened me a Fire Rabbit... this after attempting, straight-faced, to charge me $1000 for my bagel and coffee for a solid sixty seconds. Previously, during my jaunt down the sidewalk to get here, I sidestepped a perfectly respectable couple on their hands and knees, heedless of the cement's grime, photographing a little twig of a succulent that had sprung up from a crack in the turf. And even earlier, my insane neighbor lady woke me up by shouting "7 am... 7 am... 7 AM!!!" over and over and over.
Point is, I'm surrounded by crazies. Even the ones who aren't obvious enough for me to flat-out avoid have at least one or two demented characteristics stuffed up their sleeve, and they're all just waiting for a naive little Oregon boy to walk by and trigger them. Simone and I were talking the other day about how neither of us is able to walk by a clearly homeless/begging person without making eye contact and, in so doing, acknowledging them as fellow humans - for her, though, these brief encounters really bring down her good spirits. I suppose this means my near-total soullessness actually is good for something other than what might be considered downright scathing observational skills. Still, I can't help but wonder how much further I might inadvertently sink by the simple act of gradually growing more and more numb to both the characters and the antics that populate this city.
But enough of that. Work = work (has it been 8 hours yet?!?). My days off = sleep. Night = drinking and/or repeat episodes of Mad Men. Opportunity beckons, I just need to get off my lazy ass and chase it. Also: come visit!