A guy with a beard and a bedroll on his back and a smell around him and a general sort-of recreational-chemical deadness inside his eyes:

“Hey man, I hop trains, do you know where a freightyard is?”

And I don’t, so I get into my friend’s car and say, “That guy hops trains and wants to know where a freightyard is.”

And we pull up next to him and roll down our window and give directions and he peers redeyed into the car and says, “Thanks man, hey, do you guys smoke herb?”

At a busstop checking when the 16 comes and a man walks up with smiling lips and smiling eyes and wild gesturing cigarette:

“Youre a musician.”
“Yes I am.”
“What do you play, man, you play guitar.”
“Yes I do.”
“I knew it man, just look at the hair, everybody with hair like that plays the fuckin guitar, hair like fuckin god just like waaaaaah, blrrrrrrgblh, graaaaaaagh, fuck yeah man.”
“Haha, thanks.”
“So hey man, you do lines?”
“Haha, nah.”
“Just smoke pot then.”
“Haha, nah, just have the hair.”
“Well I tell you man I tell you what I got no cash man & my girl shes a dancer over at dreamgirls & my girl she always givin me shit about it & man my car is parked in a lot & I fuckin need 9 fuckin $s to get it out the parkin lot & I got a bag a powder & a bag a hash in the car & I’m just tryin to find a friend out here ya know.”
“Man, I got friends could help you out but none a them are out tonight far as I know, sorry.”
“Naw man, it’s cool, man, all ted nugent man like you can’t fuck with this guy, it’s like water man, fuckin water, its like water is just the fuckin essence a things ya know, without water wed all just fuckin cease ta exist, ya know?”
“…”
“& its all just fuckin water.”
“…”
“Anyway man, you have a goodn.”
“Yeahyeah, youtoo.”

A letter everybody is too apathetic to send me:

“Dear Douchebag,

Why isn’t your blog funny anymore?

-Everybody”