a fairly interesting occurence.

Yesterday on the way to my studio I stopped by Juice and Java, Provo's only coffee shop (which is kind of crummy, and attracts a sometimes unpleasant crowd, but I noticed a new one is being built by Beto's which, also yesterday I noticed is not called Beto's anymore but something like Rancheritos. When I asked I learned everything is exactly the same except the name. Even the automated voice at the drive through still says 'Welcome to Beto's')

As I emerged from buying my drink, an iced coffee, two guys who didn't quite look homeless but seemed to be in a state where homelessness could easily result from a minor financial setback, were sitting in that grass strip which sometimes seperates sidewalks and roads and in Toronto I heard referred to as a 'boulevard', but have never heard it referred to by any name in the states, though a name may exist. If not we should coin one. Maybe we should call it the coin. Sometimes there might be confusion of whether a person using the word is referring to money or grass between sidewalks and roads, but I think most of the time it would be clear from the context.

One of the two almost homeless guys called me over and asked if i could spare some change. Since it was one of the rare times when I did have some spending cash on me I gave them a dollar and some change. Somehow, unsurprisingly because they both seemed a little tipsy, it came up that the man who had originally beckoned me was trained as a chef but hasn't been able to find any chef work so now works as a day laborer with his friend who was sitting with him on the coin

The trained chef began to rant about how he can't find a chef job because of the mexican immigrants who are willing to work for half the money he is. His friend interjected, 'That and you sometimes put people in the deep fryer.'

I responded with something like 'Whoa! what! Like sometimes you throw hot oil on people?'

Him: No, I actually put someone in a deep fryer.

Me: What do you mean? How did that happen?

Him: Well, we got into a fight and so I grabbed his face and shoved it into the deep fryer.

Me: Whoa! WOW! His FACE!? What happened!?

Him: Well, there were enough people around pulling me off him it wasn't as bad as it could have been.

I then jokingly asked for my money back, and he, not realizing I was joking began to hand it back. I told him I was only joking and he replied that I was still welcome to take it back if I wanted, which I did not want.

Then a friend of his walked up and began speaking to me in what I guess was Arabic. He assumed I was a Muslim because I was wearing my Morrocan thobe. I told him I was a Baha'i, and that while we believed in Muhammed we were distinct from Muslims. He claimed to know this yet his questions and comments seemed to show otherwise.

Here is a picture of me in my thobe, which you can also see to the right, much smaller, as my new profile photo. I recently learned Klimt wore a similar robe for the later part of his life, and seeing pictures of him has reignited my love of the thobe:



Anonymous said...

Katon, Goukakyu no jutsu.

Vincent said...

Excellent story.

Fish Nat!on said...

the coin. perfect.