3 miles (12:20)

i’m leaning against the wall outside the fancy-pants art gallery. normal uniform. running warehouse shirt, old shorts, sweat-encrusted baseball cap, new balance 110 shoes. a car pulls up. a guy leans his head out. “would you like something to eat?” i’m used to fielding weird questions downtown, but this one threw me. i stare at him blankly for a few seconds. then i see they have little church uniforms on. they think i’m a homeless guy. i wonder for a second if they have any oreos, but that seems wrong. no, i’m ok, i tell him. we just had a stripes breakfast taco (hold the chorizo!) so i really am ok. he looks at me compassionately. are you sure? i assume that if i take a sandwich it will end up with me having to accept jesus as my personal savior. i’m ok with him as my professional savior, but i’m not sure about that stuff when i’m off the clock. there are no atheists in potholes, the saying goes, but they just threw in a bunch of asphalt last week (just after i read about the perfect solution — throwing dirt in the holes and planting daffodils in the street. dammit.) he shrugs, rolls up the window and they drive off. i wonder about what my life has become, loitering outside galleries and exchanging pleasantries with bus center refugees. what price, art? and then i go for a run.  3 miles (12:20). felt awful. i’m old and desperately need a day off. if only you would skip one so i could win the contest. oh, well. i probably should’ve eaten something beforehand. possible rdj  sighting in stairwell of art studio, but i was running low on oxygen so it could’ve been hallucination. can you take a photo of a hallucination? it’s not easy being a homeless guy.

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About gary

no sock monkeys were harmed in the making of this blog.
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