Walking down a city alley, the wind brings me whirls of confetti, and the smell of piss.

Taxi driver account

“I haven’t had anyone throw up in my cab in two years. It happened a lot at first, but you start to be able to tell who will and just don’t pick them up.”

“I never pick up young girls after 2 a.m. on a Friday, Saturday night anymore. They’re the ones who throw up.”

“There would be too much to write! I would need rolls of paper. People do such crazy things. I would spend the rest of my life writing, no time for anything else.”

Moving slowly, like a child through her peas.

Unable to control the unfolding of events, I spent the evening in nervous agitation. I can recall the look of the food eaten during those hours, but not any tastes. When I try, all I feel is bare feet on polished floorboards, and an anxious pace.

The footsteps and voices of two drunk people come through your bedroom window. Their conversational tone is one of grave seriousness, and you find yourself nodding along, not in agreement (who knows what they are speaking of) but in recognition. You too have had an alcoholic exchange, one that at the time warranted the focussing of all your mental faculties.

A regret

Today, I passed a woman on the street who I could not stop staring at when we were walking toward each other. She was dressed in a way that can be termed ‘ideal’, and the memory of her will be a source for hopeful emulation.

But I should have told her rather than you.

If it made her feel good, it was worth it.

How it happened was that I’d just come out of a conversation with a person whose questions kept stepping on the heels of my replies. She didn’t do it out of rudeness, just a preference for short answers without supplementary explanation. It felt partly like the interruptions of an excited friend, and partly like someone tired of listening to you, and produced in me a confusing mix of pleasure and annoyance.

I approached my next conversation still with the annoyance in mind, and committed myself to not interrupting the other party. However, it turned out this other person was very invested in providing supplementary detail to their anecdotes, and the conversation became a very long one indeed.

Hello, Sun.

Today being one of those unsure spring days, with people on the street dressed confusingly, in either winter coats or t-shirts. I spent my time this afternoon alternately rolling my sleeves to my elbow and pulling them over my fingers, according to what the conditions of the moment demanded.