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2001-06-07 || 5:30 p.m. || the nice man i met on oxford. || we were standing outside the ice cream shop finishing our cigarettes when a man came up to us and asked for a cigarette. he had a long long black beard with random white hairs that he tugged at continually, long black hair, coffee brown eyes. he looked either very dirty or very tan. i gave him a cigarette and fished around in my bag for a lighter while he asked where i was from. 'here,' i said, pointing at the ground (why do i always do that?). 'berkeley.' and he said, 'oh, americana?' and i said yeah. he told me i looked european, that i dress european. i am always getting told that. i didn't realize europeans wore so much polyester. old man pants. old lady skirts. but he went on to say he was from mexico city waiting for his friends to meet him in berkeley to give him his clothes and some money. he is on his way to ashland, oregon, where he says there is a lot of culture. he says it has a population of 70, 80,000. he says he wants to go to the shakespeare festival. he says more than anything though he wants a bubble bath. he was very kind and tender, and even though he went on to talk about the harley davidson roadster and matching saddlebags he was going to buy with his money to drive up the coast to oregon, i thought he was very nice. michael was the one who noticed that the seat of his pants had been torn straight across. that he was wearing another pair of levis underneath. that he probably wasn't in the market for a harley davidson, at least not at this point in time. guestbook || notes || archives || profile || photos || d-land |