Oh glory be to this beautiful February day in San Francisco," I think to myself as I prepare to leave the office located slightly South of market on a 60 degree day. "What a day to be alive I think to myself," in the most cliche way possible as I approach the Montgomery BART station with a mass of hurried commuters. "They must have someplace to be," I think as I look at the person in front of me, but I'm not really looking at all. I'm staring blankly into space. My eyes just happen to be affixed on whatever is in front of me as I listen to the Strokes or the Honorary Title or the Indie Rock White Dude Band that happened to be playing in my iPod.
All of a sudden, a smell rises from the world and knocks me out of my reverie and my eyes focus on a dude, a transient, who is in the midst of taking his pants off and is simultaneously taking a shit on the Fidelity Building. At this point, I had to think to myself, "Holy shit, is this bum making a political statement right now?! Like, does he know how much the banks have fucked all of us? Maybe that's Bernie Madoff?" Of course, then I had to think to myself, "Maybe he's just a bum, and he needs a place to shit and this corner is as good as any other. I mean, he is a transient and he probably really has lost all connection to normal society" I'd love to believe the first theory, but if I were in Vegas and they gave me odds, I'd have to take the second theory. I'd lay the points though.
Tomorrow: Cracked out Mother of 8 and 10 year old smoking cloves--cloves?!-- in front of me.
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