I have been obsessing about a particular project which requires me to learn how to spray paint hands pulling starlight. These are the earliest attempts, which I am sure I will quickly grow ashamed of. I have also made notes on the box about what I learned that day. It is super exciting, but it feels just a little tedious. Hopefully the finished product is worth it all.Due to my living situation, I have to go to the park to paint. This is always an adventure in and of itself. The park is known for its activity that is well past questionable. Day time is the only time I'm 'allowed' to venture there. On a particularly warm Sunday, I decided I needed to go over and learn how to paint.
I met three homeless men while I was there. I did not have a pen to take notes, so I asked them if they did. We had been attempting to act as if we were ignoring each other while discovering the nature of each other's activities since I had entered the pavilion. I honestly did not think they would have a pen, and I do not think they thought they would either. However, I had been enjoying their music that was streaming from their radio, and not felt comfortable enough to engage them.The first man, Mike as I would later find out, looked at me like I was a little crazy for talking to them before he said, "You are asking the wrong sort of people." He came over to my side of the pavilion about 5 minutes later, proudly bearing a red pen. From there, our interaction was kept to a minimum.
When I had finished, I returned the pen. They made small talk, introduced themselves. Mike, Michael, and the third...seemed a little unsure of his identity. His name might be Mario. It might also be Toby. He couldn't really decide, which did not incite the alarm inside of me that it probably should have. None of them appeared to have a single whole tooth, except for Michael who was African American and much younger than the other two who were white. As I turned to leave, I was informed by Mike that I would go places. I asked him why he said that and he laughed half-heartedly and asked why I wouldn't. The other two were quick to back him up.
I'm not sure what to take from that since I saw at least two empty bottles of what looked like Saki. (Really guys, rice wine? That's a little too far outside of your stereotype.) According to three displaced men in a park pavilion, I am destined for success.
