This morning I went to the gym with Bob, but had to walk home because he needed the car to work. I couldn't run because I was fully clothed. It's only 2.3 miles, but it was a harrowing experience.
It was a very gray, cloudy day, very humid but not hot, with that weirdly oppressive feeling you get sometimes when things are a little off.
1. About .4 miles down a very busy street, with cars zooming past at breakneck speed, then cutting around a Kwick-Trip. Except there was a husky guy in black, with long hair and multiple tattoos, blocking the sidewalk, glaring at me in a threatening fashion, and occasionally hitting himself in the head.
I crossed the street to get away from him, and he watched, glaring and hitting himself, as I walked the long way around.
A muscular guy wearing only short black pants was walking in big circles on the sidewalk and street outside the vacuum cleaner place, talking angrily to himself.
"Not another one!" I thought. "Is there a wacko convention in town?"
When he saw me, he started yelling -- I couldn't make out the words.
3. I ducked into the used bookstore to get away from him, browsed around the sorry collection of worn paperbacks from the 1970s, and finally bought a history of ancient Egypt that wasn't too dismal.
4. About .5 miles through the "bar" neighborhood of downtown, with saloons, taverns, bars, and gin joints on every block, plus the post office, some banks, the Masonic Temple, and a ladies' strip club.
I always find the bar neighborhood disturbing, but there's something eerie about it when you realize that all of the buildings are empty.
A car stopped right next to me, and a heavily tattooed guy jumped out. No place to turn off, so I just walked faster. I heard him talking behind me. At the end of the block, I finally managed to turned off.
A tall figure wearing a long black robe and black hood was standing in a yard next to the woods.
It didn't seem to notice me, but still, that was enough.
There was one.
A heavily tattooed man --even his fingers were tattooed -- sitting at one of the tables, eating a breakfast burrito. He looked up and glared at me. I left.
8. I stopped at the gas station/convenience store for a banana. There was a woman in the parking lot picking up bits of paper. I thought she was an employee tidying up, but she wasn't wearing a uniform, and wouldn't you use a broom for that?
I saw a guy heading in my direction, and knew that we would both reach the planter at the same time, but I was in no mood to wait. He wasn't either. We turned to face each other as we squeezed past: he was my height, thick biceps, square hands black curly hair, black eyes. Our chests scraped against each other. He smiled and said "Excuse me." Middle Eastern accent.
Did I say terrible, horrible, and harrowing? I meant fantastic. A walk full of hot guys, one shirtless, another who brushed his chest against me. Plus a book on ancient Egypt and a banana.
I decided to go back to the coffee shop and talk to the heavily tattooed guy eating the breakfast burrito.
This post with nude photos is on Tales of West Hollywood