THE AVOIDANCE ART

The old black fellow who hangs out at the intersection does not seem to be there today. He's been there four days in a row (it used to be every day), and every time I see him I give him two dollars. It used to be only one dollar, but during Covid he was there far less, and after two plus decades it was time to raise that; one dollar in the nineties was a lot more than two dollars in the twenties. But he comes up when he sees me because he knows that two dollars will result. Sometimes he mumbles 'thank you', but he's not conversational.

Anyhow, yesterday evening I did not have single dollars on my person, so I took the long way around, walking twice as far, and uphill besides, which with my lower extremities is a pain in the precisely. This morning I had not rectified the dollar bill situation, so I skulked and slithered in the shadows when I went out to do my laundry, though I did have two extra dollars in quarters just in case. When I took the bus downtown, more gingerly surreptition.

Then after a late lunch in Chinatown, now having spare dollar bills, I strode confidently homewards from the bus stop, expecting him to alacritously come trotting up.
Nope. Not in sight. He may have gone home early.

No, he's never going to pull himself up by his own bootstraps.
He never had the instruction manual for doing so.
Bootstraps, man. Complicated.
Please be real.

The other thing is that the elderly Chinese Indonesian lady came up to me on the street and thanked me for bringing her fruits and veggies regularly. Glad she likes it. Told her it was no problem, I'm down in Chinatown often. What I am never going to tell her is that it's an easy way to check up on her and make sure that everything is more less okay. Without prying. Here, have a bag of mangoes!

But, you know, I am not particularly social, so skulking around quietly not bumping into people is second nature for me. Mother's milk, so to speak.



Lunch today was beef and shrimp sauce fried rice noodles (蝦醬牛肉炒米粉 'haa jeung ngau yiuk chaau mai fan') at a place where toward the end of the day it is quieter, and the tourists seldom go. Followed by a smoke, a red Virginia blend in a shape 56 Dunhill shellbriar.
All perfectly lovely. The light there is good. You could bring a book.



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