The Mustard Seed and Chartered Accountants
The night he got fired he got moved out of his house. An altercation of some sort with his roommates, not his fault. They're crazy.
He's been staying at the Mustard Seed ever since. Not the one downtown but the nicer one out in the Foothills Industrial Park. It's one of the nicest shelters in the city, he tells me. He takes a bus in every day to get to work. He views it as mostly a positive thing, he's meeting new people, setting goals for himself.
At the moment though he's trying to find a chartered accountant. He wants to know if he can write off his bus passes on his taxes.
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- Category: Conversations
Goals and Aspirations
He's got this list of goals and aspirations that he shares with me. Ive seen it before, I just like to see if it's changed any...
He wants to be a musician, a painter and artist, a writer of books, an evangelist, he's just got to work on some personal issues first...
Maybe that's why I like him so much. We have a lot in common....
He tells me that he wants to become a police officer. That takes me by surprise, the last time we spoke he wanted to become a Chef like his father...
I ask him, "Why do you want to become a police officer?"
"I've got my reasons" he tells me meaningfully.
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- Category: People
I'm not crazy...
As soon as you hear that phrase, be on your guard. It almost always means the person is, in fact, crazy.
But I try to be tactful...
"Crazy is no longer really in popular usage in Psychiatric circles" I tell him... "There's much better labels. More descriptive. And, hey, aren't we all a little crazy to be working here?"
- "But I'm not crazy" he tells me.
"I didn't say you were." I counter.
- "I know. But I thought you should know. I love you. And I'm not crazy."
"That's good." I say. "You know, the nice thing about aluminum foil is you can make these cool hats that block satellite waves from reading your mind...."
He looks at me. He has no sense of humour. "I'm NOT crazy...."
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- Category: Conversations
Crush
It's Friday night and I've sent everyone home.
Everyone home but her.
She's free to go as well, the others, as soon as they got word, they disappeared. But she's decided to stay. She sits up on the counter in the kitchen.
And I have a bad feeling about this. I have a suspicion.
Still, she betrays nothing, and I tell her she can go, I've got it all covered but she doesn't mind hanging out, keeping me company, and so we make light conversation. About our kids and ex's and other trifles.
It's a little awkward. I don't want to jump to any conclusions but there's the suspicion....
And it would be a really bad idea. It's a small restaurant, everyone is somehow or another related to everyone else, a liaison here would be a marriage into the family...
I've watched her, know her, well enough anyways, to know it wouldn't be a happy marriage.
I think of ways to dissuade her. Change the topic maybe, discuss my abundant and twisted perversions; my heart of darkness, but that wouldn't do it, it never does, it merely piques their interest....
And so we chat lightly, about the weather, smoking, until she's bored of waiting and leaves and I'm off the hook.
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- Category: Miscellany
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