Saturday, September 15, 2012
Often, when I go running in my neighborhood late at night, I run into the same old man going for a walk.
He's tall & very distinguished-looking, and he moves at a pretty good clip considering his pronounced limp. We always seem to be coming towards each other down the street.
And we pretty much have the same conversation every time we see each other.
First, we give each other that nod that men do when they make eye contact.
Then I'll say, "How you doing?"
And he'll answer, "I'm doing well, thank you very much."
His voice is a deep, rich baritone and his enunciation is perfect, which only makes the next part of this conversation all the more jarring.
Because this is when I say, "Nice night, isn't it?"
The old man always chuckles at this, and then he says, "Hey, man, like I like to say, fuck the weather, man. I'm still breathing, know what I mean?"
"I certainly do," I say, giving him a little laugh of my own.
Then the old man waves at me and continues on his way as I go mine.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
"Sorry about that. It came out a little fast."
"It was a gusher!"
"Just give me a second. Then we can start over."
"Oh, okay. I think we're good."