People I'm Next To

I'm not next to anyone. This will change soon.

I'm next to this gentleman. He has grey hair and a slouch. He is wearing a blue T, and cargo shorts. His grey socks are pulled high out of his white tennis shoes. His features are soft and rounded. He puts the gentle in gentleman. He looks very very nice. He is also directly in front of my car. Well like 45 feet in front of my car. So, you know, its not that dramatic. He does decide however that he doesn't want to cross the street. This is really sad thing for the Gentleman apparently. He is so downcast as he turns around and walks back to the sidewalk. He really looks like he is going to cry. I've never felt so bad for driving straight.

I'm next to these two guys. One is kinda chubby, with tangled hair and the hint of a future beard. He has blue mesh shorts on and a sweat drenched T-shirt. He is out of breathe. The other guy is fit, thin and lanky, with close cropped hair and is cleanly shaved. He has a tight shirt on, and fitted mesh shorts. He is sweating lightly, and breathing regularly. It looks like they planned how ridiculous they look next to each other. It is like a Laurel and Hardy jogging team. The chubby guy is bent over heaving now, while his buddy offers bland, but encouraging words, while jogging in place to keep up his heart rate. There is a flash of hatred across the already twisted features of the chubby guy. I can tell that, just for a moment, he wants to plunge his hands into the thin guy's chest, pull out his heart, and scream wildly some clever phrase that has the word 'cardiovascular' in it. Much to my dismay he doesn't coat his hands in the life blood of his exerc...

I'm next to these four dudes. They all are wearing mesh shorts and T-shirts, three of the four have caps on, two of the four have flip flops. They are my new neighbors and they are enjoying the weather by sitting on their porch and talking about girls. Despite their ridiculous notions of women, this set up is not inherently a problem. When it happens at 4:30 am then we have a problem. Currently we have a problem. They are loud, so loud. They are stupid, so stupid. As they talk about girls they do this strange dance. It starts off with a mention, "Hey hows Jane doing?" In a four man chorus they give some safe small talk about Jane. Then they lightly touch on Jane's character. Invariably these are compliments, "She is a really cool girl," and so on and so forth. This rapidly shifts to a different sort of compliment, "She has a BODY, I mean a body." So now that we know Jane isn't a discorporate entity wandering the world without form o...

I'm next to people, I think. I'm walking down the street, past a bus parked at a stop, and with the way the sun is shining the windows have been turned into mirrors. I feel nervous. Anyone could be in that bus watching me. Anyone. This is an unacceptable reversal of roles. That's my shtick, phantom bus people. I spy on people and think they are weird. Do you have a blog that two of your friends read, when you not so casually fish for their patronage. No, you don't do you. So stop making fun of my stupid hair cut, or the fact that my shirt is extra wrinkly today, or whatever. Dicks. It is possible no one was looking at me as I walked by.

I'm next to this guy. He is short, round, and shaggy headed. Hair beard all of it. He has a white polo on with small yellowed spots, similarly stained khaki shorts and flip flops. In order to keep his flip flops on he feet he take tiny little bird steps. As he walks around this bar I hear snippets of him talking. He is making a silly voice, strange, squeaky and soft. Wait, that is actually his voice. Its this hideous watery squeak screech like if a rodent and a bird were to make love in the middle of the ocean. It is astonishing to think he sounds like this all the time. It must be a strange existence when your main form of communication is this unfortunate warbling sound. Oh my, now the most amazing thing ever is happening, he is getting up to sing karaoke. Oh. Oh. It is beautiful. It is so goddamn beautiful. Hearing him sing is like being hugged by my mother. I don't even know what to say. I'm just going to stop writing.

I'm next to a man. A man. He has a red polo and new jeans, with that capital B unfaded blue, and a big silver watch. His eyebrow are constantly fluctuating between furrowed and arched. He looks just like Craig T. Nelson. Star of screens big and small. I hope its him. It would be so wonderful if it was him. It has to be him. It totally is him Maybe he is prepping for the Coach movie, I hope so. I'd love a Coach movie, maybe Jerry Van Dyke would be in it. I mean he would have to be, if he is still alive guess. It would be a dream come true to see those two back in action. I'm gonna play it cool though I'm not gonna ask for an autograph. I just checked Jerry Van Dyke is alive.