This afternoon I
walked two miles in stifling, tropical heat to keep a therapy appointment where
I discussed my desire to develop a new persona. On my way back I ran into my
old friend, Hobble (he has a wooden leg) outside a 7-11. Hobble’s sweaty face
was decorated with silver spraypaint; he had obviously been huffing. He was
enthusiastic and friendly when he recognized me. “Hey hey hey!” he said,
smiling with his silver lips. He was fidgety and stuporous and started babbling
at me. He was mostly incoherent but talked a lot about time-travel, Rita Moreno
and radio repair in Germany. I listened to his manic rap for around twenty
minutes and then told him I had to get going. That it was good seeing him
again. He insisted on shaking hands and then he hobbled around to the back of
the 7-11. I looked at the silver spraypaint on my hand and then headed home. I
started thinking about a new persona again.
