Just hung out for an hour with a guy named John. We were sitting on the grassy part next to the off ramp for Lakeshore and Lawrence. His
friend had had a meltdown and was waving a sword around and damn near 15 cops (including a chief and a paddy wagon??) showed up
to arrest him and send him to Masonic for “treatment”. He told John, “take my dog, take my dog” and so now he was feeding Viktor dried
dog jerky and smoking menthols and drinking natty ice and wondering what the fuck to do. I stopped by because they’re disappearing
people and my brother’s godmother got at me years ago for the selfish act that was getting a flip phone. “Well then how can you record
when the police are doing things to people?” and so I feel guilty cause I really can’t record, and so that motivates me to pull up and watch
the police and see if I can support the people getting harassed by them.


John went to Lane Tech. Small world. He’s 42 and came from Honolulu when he was 9 and used to really fucking breakdance like,
“windmills and shit”, but now he really just bikes and walks and smokes and drinks and does his tough CNA job he doesn’t really like, cause
nurses don’t do any of the work they just “pass pills and call to check in with the doctor. They can smoke weed.” But the nursing assistant
does all the work. I didn’t know that. I always thought the nurse WAS the assistant and was doing all the work, but it seems like they get to
pass the buck too. It’s kinda depressing. Maybe one day John will have an assistant. Or a different job.


It’s always tense in conversations, especially with strangers, when someone has to go to the bathroom. The flow, the mood, the energy
gets changed and you’re each left to your own devices, summing the other up, evaluating the conversation and how it’s going. It gives the
opportunity to step back and remember yourself which adds a bit of complexity when you eventually try to get back into it after the
person who went to piss comes back. This time it lead to me saying that frustrating “I’m gonna have to head out in like 20 minutes” thing. I
do it with the kids, give people a warning when I’m about to leave, or when class time is almost over. I really don’t like ending things, and I
wished that a part of me could stay and carry things out with every person until we hate each other or die. I just feel bad about going. I
feel guilty ignoring people and I feel guilty abandoning them, and I think this has lead to some dangerous, or laborious situations.


And yeah, I couldn’t give him my number. That part frustrates me too. It sucks to have few people in the world. It sucks to be rejected. I just
don’t want to add bitter, sullen energy into the world, and I also really don’t want him to hate me and think of me as some POS for popping
a squat for an hour and chatting just to leave. But an hour is not a commitment and as I drove away I noticed a real sign of growth which
was that I simply had to accept that that interaction was all I could offer at the moment, and I could not change what he decided to take
away from our encounter. I could only hope that it made a positive impact on his day, but really you just never know. It could’ve fucked with
him so bad he never recovered. I have to live with that and own it.


We laughed a lot though, which isn’t nothing. He kept asking if I knew Ari, the guy who got arrested and I had to tell him no, I didn't.
I don’t know if he was already drunk or maybe I looked like someone Ari knew, or I just sort of fit in, but it wasn’t disconcerting.
It felt like a compliment.


He said that 20s is any kind of crazy, and 30s is calculated crazy, and honestly I’ve got a lot to look forward to. I told him I’m crazy but I
lost my crazy and am trying to get it back. The yin and yang of craziness. It’s a balance. He says in your 20s anything goes but in your 30s
you go, “well.. I know this is crazy, but…”. I don’t covet the craziness he’s had, and I don’t truly want to experience it, but I do long for what
“crazy” means for me. What a calculated sort of impulsiveness might do for my soul relative to the time and place of my life.


I don’t know how I feel about this sort of thing I do. Hanging out with strange men sometimes. Talking to them and asking them about their
lives. I feel my presence is wanted, enjoyed, and that I can infiltrate easily with my age and perceived gender and appearance, and I get a
lot out of it too. Insight and company and risk. I don’t think it’s bad, but sometimes I wonder if I offer too much just by being there. That
whole situation of abandonment. Do I never reach out and ask if they’re okay or want company? Or only reach out when I know I can
commit to a long-term friendship? I think it’s better to just be honest and leave when I have to, which gives us another thing in common.
The sadness of being alone again.


His tip for picking up girls is: Just be yourself.