February 27th, 2007
After work every day he would walk 3 blocks through the city to his apartment. Once inside the first thing he would do is fix himself a fried-egg sandwich. Toasted bread.
But before that, he would have adventures. One of the things that would happen is he would walk in a furiously erratic pattern on the way home. Every shop window or alley or facade or trash-can or poodle or wino commanding first his attention and then his entire body. Magnet, amok. Part of him could help it, part of him couldn’t.
The part he could help was the starting of it all. Because it was up to him if he wanted to start walking that way.
But once it began — well, he couldn’t quite do much about it at that point. And it felt nice anyhow. You felt closer to things.
Often bicycles would strike him because of his habit, unable to veer away in time from his careenings. Sometimes panting joggers shouldering into him and past, muttering, cursing.
He called this adventure C32 to distinguish it from others.
C. Way/ SnailCrow.com © 2006