"Have you got a pen?"
Boys, i gotta tell you about this guy i met today, some hipster hobo in his fifties walking along the street past my work while i'm outside having mid-afternoon cigarette. "Have you got a pen?" he asks, with scrap of paper in hand. "you wouldn't believe it, i've found two pens today - a red one and a blue one but i went home to change my jacket and i've left them there." Well maybe i do have a pen, just hold on a minute there and i search my pockets but have no pen.
All this time we've been talking at total ease with each other, he starts
showing me some ornamental pine cutting he's found and had in his wallet
jacket pocket. “When the words come, you've got to write them down”
he says; i know what you mean, i tell him. Then he's talking about going
on holiday to blackpool and writing poems to give to strangers as presents
to thank them for the good time he
Another guy walks by, looks kinda homeless type fella, friendly enough,
asks where he can get a bus ticket [but doesn’t ask for any money,
which is highly unusual for someone on the streets of this town]. “Try
the bus ticket shop” my acquaintance tells him. But i got no money.
“Why, how much do you need?” A pound. “Alright, i'll
give you a pound, gimme it back next time you see me.”
He then begins telling me about a bi-annual beard growing contest he's thinking of entering. In Berlin this year, apparently. Starts explaining to me the seventeen different categories you can enter and how ITS NOT JUST ABOUT THE BEARD but about HOW YOU PRESENT IT i.e. whether you have chosen the right style for you, what you wear with it, how you carry yourself; your gait, no less. (yes, he used this word).
Then we're talking music and he mentions Leonard Cohen, to which i