Sometimes, good things happen

Well, theyre not good for EVERYONE, and sometimes, not for the people involved. But theyre good for some people. Or, you know, me.

Theres that moment where someone too busy texting walks straight into small piece of poo on the pavement. Or shouting loudly on their mobile phone on the train when a fly shoots through the window and straight into their throat.

And its nothing wrong with THEM, really, or with what theyre doing. Its abot the way I feel about the what theyre doing. And how the what affects everyone else..


Best of all are the people I saw the other day: three guys helping their friend, Fourth Guy, push a car down the road. It was a beautiful thing.

Well, the team work thing? That was beautiful.

But the thing was.

They were all dressed in the modern gangsta costume of a huge white t-shirt and a pair of oversixed jeans. The kind of jeans that – apparently – are cool if youve inherited them from your older brother who cant wear them because hes gone to prison, and people can tell that, because theyre very large, so you have to hold them up when you walk.

Believe me when I say all four young men were rocking the full my brother passed on these clothes, they;re eight times too big for me, Im going to wear them even if i have to keep my fingers firmly gripped around my beltloops at alltimes look

And the good thing was:

When, in the middle of a busy San Franciscan street, pushing a car whose starter was having some problem down the middle of the road, the four boys, already with trousers around their thighs, pushed; hands too busy to hold their waistbands.

People I saw at LEAST two pairs of low-slung gangstapants fall to the ground. And that was in the fifty metres in front of my house.

Men, pushing this car

you look hard; hanging so loose

trousers: they fall down.