THE NEUROTIC ONES

In this weather I am not a comfort to be around. This morning I saw a woman losing her mind at the opposite bus stop, because of the rain, the early hour, the wind, and her umbrella. If she had been on my side of the street, I might have approached her and said "there there, little wombat, if it makes you feel any better, it is lovely sunshining weather elsewhere. Peru, for instance. Just stop screaming and think od Peru. Sunshine!"
Quite possibly this would not have improved matters.

The thing that decisively prevented me from crossing the street to comfort the poor woman was that my own umbrella was being turned inside out, and I had to struggle to hold on to it. Oh, and strangers screaming on the street in San Francisco early in the day may be batshit crazy and potentially violent. These are practical considerations.

Plus I am not a warm caring individual.

The last time a woman screamed at me on the street in San Francisco was down in the Financial District. Her loud assertion was that I was deliberately ruining her lungs.
Because I was smoking at the time.
It was very good.

And given how shrill and loud she was, there was nothing wrong with her lungs.
I knew I had to make more effort, as so far it had had scant effect.
She may have been an earthmother from Berkeley.
That type, that look, you know.


I don't think I'm good with women.



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