A Drizzly 9th of September

I was up and at McDonald's before the drizzle began.  The outside patio was a gaggle of the homeless, one of which gave me enough to make the coffee nut.  I began the day with six cents, and now I have zero.  But I'm just finishing up breakfast which was a blueberry pop tart one of the bums gave me.

Fed.  Elijah fed by the ravens.  Remember that?  Biblical.

So Garret shows up and gets shorts on my Bum Blend tobacco rolled in hamburger wrapper.  Inelegant but it works.  The Barton Springs Saloon across the street is a very productive place for snipes.   And snipes come in all shapes, sizes, and flavors.

John at the bridge the other night said that a top-of-the-line snipe cigarette would be a... Snipenheimer.  Hmmm.  And I suppose a cigarette rolled of snipe tobacco you don't like (such as menthol for me) might be called...BummerBlend.

Then Smiley emerged across the street and I yelled at him a couple of times before I caught his attention.  He came, we rolled snipes, and sat there against the side of the building, just out of the damp.  Eventually here came Darby, the singer/songwriter from Nashville, looking for coffee.  He had an almost full pouch of Bugler, so we all rolled the good stuff.  He took my cup and went in for a refill, and the guy at the counter busted him.

This yesterday's cup? the manager asked.

Nope.  It's a friend of mine's.

Manager laughs and fills his cup.  At least you're honest.

Darby comes back musing on honesty.  Honesty will take ya a long ways, he says.

And still later Smiley and I cross the street to the tunnels, a fairly safe place to smoke a bowl.  And in a matter of minutes, my head is no longer earth bound.

But I wanted to tell you about Chris.  And maybe that one's kewl enough to deserve its own posting.

Laters.