Dueling phones.

Solid.

The power lunch.

Cellular accessory store, SF.

Two wheels.

Self portrait.

He’s using a padlock as a hammer to fix something. Banging two busted pieces of metal together. Maybe an old shoe rack.

“Could you use some pliers?”

“Yeah, I’m making a drumstick. I’m trying to get a brush sound.”

So I hand him my multi-tool and watch him crimp two metal rods inside a thin metal tube. Clever.

“Thanks for stopping. Most people just keep walking.”

He continues. “Once I almost died. I was lying on the street with salmonella and blood poisoning. I was there from 8am til 1pm the next day. People had to step over me. I was saying call 911 and they thought I was saying I wanted a honey bun.”

He’s better at filling silence than me. I don’t know what to say, but he just keeps up the conversation. “I’m used to Austin. People there are nicer. Well you know, some people. They watch out for others.”

“But it’s warmer here right?”

“Yeah, it is. And I’m trying to get away from my past. Some felonies. Start with a clean slate.”

He’s done. Took just a minute or so. He hands back the knife. Says thanks and extends his hand to shake mine. I hope he didn’t perceive any of my hesitation to return his gesture. I hope he didn’t notice that I was fixed on his worn hand and blackened nails. When I shake it’s like I’m holding a neglected leather boot.

“Alright I want to hear it,” I say.

He bangs out a beat. I can hear the brush effect he’s going for, even on the coffee cans he’s fashioned into a kit. Nice. And I mean it when I say “God bless you, bro.” even though it sounds lame when I say it.

iPhone, iPhone, iPhone, iPhone, Kindle, Newspaper

Nobody Everybody walks in LA SF.

SF Moto Cop

x

Walk. Don’t walk.

Hanging lanterns in Union Square.