Sunday, January 21, 2007

Don't stare-- they like that.

I third-wheeled it to brunch with Pearl and Tom this morning, on a quest for smoked salmon and bagels. Actually, my morning had begun about 4 hours earlier when I found myself awake at 6AM for no good reason. I suspect it had something to do with our heroic thermostat trying to protect me from the near zero temperature, as I woke up feeling like someone had been blasting me in the face with a hair dryer all night long. So I had some water, started the crossword puzzle, and watched it get lighter outside.
Basically, I belong in a nursing home somewhere in Yawn City.

But the real story here isn't about me, it's about Mr. Juggles. We took the T to Croma and it was a pretty empty train-- save for one bearded gentleman. He smiled politely at us, and once the train started moving he took off his jacket to reveal a purple button-up and took out his juggling balls.
He was good, but not fantastic by any means. He frequently dropped the balls and had to chase them around.

Now, I hate obvious pleas for attention, so I only took furtive glances. The next time I turned around, he was drinking orange juice out of a recycled jar.

Come ON.

At this point, more people were starting to get on the train, and so Mr. Juggles turned his attention to a very rumpled piece of paper extracted from his pocket. Maybe it was his set list?

1. Juggle
2. Orange juice/jar
3. ...?

Pearl and Tom had a better view, but were also trying to remain tactful.
Pearl told me later that he went on to write a lengthy note on a Georgia O'Keefe postcard.

I suppose it's hypocritical of me to disparage these Free Spirits and then spend time photographing/writing about them, but

...well no, it's definitely hypocritical. I hope Mr. Juggles had a good day. Sort of.

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