that's not the only music

cigar-tin story number 42.

On my way to work this morning I ran into a crazy person. I first spotted him about a block away -- dwarf-like, walking too fast, with too much bounce, those cheap-looking outdated headphones you pull from a bin, laces undone, backpacked and stretchy-faced -- but didn't feel like crossing the street. My mistake. I guess I gave him too much eye contact because just as he passed by he started screaming. THAT'S NOT THE ONLY MUSIC YOU FUCKING CUNT. I stopped in my tracks and turned to look at him as he continued up the street, screaming away, because I'm not so hot on turning my back on the violently insane.

Read No Country for Old Men this weekend, pretty much all in one go. The book has more emphasis on motives and direction (and the particular hell of being lost, and/or subject to random prescriptions), and of course there's more explication, but otherwise is a remarkably similar creature to the movie.

Comments

  1. He probably isn't used to someone getting 'in his space'. Did you ask him what he was listening to? David Bowie perhaps? Vintage Elton John?

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  2. Ah that's the Kingston I know and love; scary and confusing.

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  3. Life is a scary place at times! haha. I wouldn't have crossed the street either.

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