Odd Fellow

I had to run out today for a few errands, which were basically picking up a paycheck and then grabbing a few things from the store.

I'm sitting on the W train on my way down to transfer to the 1 train at Times Square, alone with my thoughts since I didn't bring my book bag that has my subway reading materials. I catch my reflection in the window and kind of size myself up the way one does to strangers on the train all the time.

I'm sitting there holding my reusable, environmentally friendly cloth shopping bag, wearing cheap black jeans from K-Mart, overpriced black vegan boots, my blue Cambodian Landmine Museum t-shirt I got in Siem Reap and my green sun hat from Vietnam with my longish hair hanging out the back and sides.

I've also got on my black corduroy jacket with my CD Walkman in the left pocket. In the player I've got an album by the Americana/Gothic-country band Blanche and I'm grooving on their version of an old Appalachian spiritual/revival number.

At this moment I couldn't help but think to myself, "Man, I'm a weird fucker."