I don’t mind Crazy People.
I see them all the time. In the subway. On the street.
It’s cool with me.
Just last night I was walking to a bar with J.P. and we passed a Crazy Person.
He had given up the whole charade of asking for money in the normal way and was standing on the corner, yelling at the top of his lungs to all who passed by, “CHANGE!”
No “Could you spare a quarter?”
No “I just need fifty cents to get on the train, please help.”
He was done with all that.
He had decided to cut to the chase and scream “CHANGE!” at everyone. And he wasn’t even posing it as a question, which makes me wonder if that guy was really Jesus Back From Heaven to save our souls and tell us to repent and stop buying so much porn and we were all just ignoring him.
Then this morning, when I got on the train to go to the gym, there was another Crazy Person standing in between the cars.
He was standing there as the train went through the tunnels and all the stops, just having the time of his fucking life.
He was also wearing rain boots and a scarf, so really, he was quite fashionable for a Crazy Person. Though I’m fairly certain there was shit caked to his scarf, and I don’t think Those That Are Fashionable do this.
At least not yet. That’s next season and I hear Marc Jacobs is all over it.
This is what my life is like on a daily basis.
I see Crazy People and I acknowledge them. I’m not freaked out or scared like some people, usually I’m quite interested in them and what they’re doing.
This is because I know that I am always just one rude comment, one too many shots of Patron, one person annoying me away from joining them.
I wonder if they’ll carry that scarf in green?