As I write this I am sitting in Simon’s Tavern in Chicago’s fabulous and historical and Scandinavian Andersonville district. I am sitting on a recently reupholstered sofa and sipping on a Pabst Blue Ribbon while keeping an eye out for friends who may or may not show. In fact, it is quite likely that I have missed them, as I arrived somewhat late and many of my friends lately have been giving in to their damn fool impulses to go to bed at a reasonable hour. Maybe they call it maturity. Maybe they’re dopes.

Oh, I’m probably just jealous of their self-control.

Anyhow, a brother and sister pair have sat down on the couch across from me and said hello — Mark and Lauren, I believe their names are. They are telling me about their moneymaking ideas, most notably toilet paper with the news printed on it. I point out to them that it would be difficult to keep the toilet paper rolls timely, as a daily or even perhaps a weekly delivery would result in far too much news for the average ass-wiper to keep up with. Plus, people’s asses are generally dirty enough without worrying about newsprint and the like.

I have finished my beer, and now I am getting up to leave and wishing Mark and Lauren farewell. I have told them that I am here regularly on Mondays, and even though it’s true more in theory than it is in practice, they seem to be impressed that I actually have a night during the week specifically set aside for drinking in a bar. So perhaps I will see them again in the future. Or perhaps not. Even now, as I walk to the train station, I have already largely forgotten what they look like.

Warm weather really brings out the beggars in my neighborhood. I’ve been asked for all sorts of things. A little while back a young kid asked me if I could give him a ride from my neighborhood out to some far west suburb. As I was on my way to work, I could not. I’m not sure I would have anyway, but at least I had an excuse other than “I don’t do favors for strangers”. He wasn’t around when I came back, so presumably he found his way out.

Tonight, I’m approached by three different middle-aged black men asking me for change. Well, only one of them actually approaches me. The other two just call out to me as I walk past. I’m never certain what to do in these situations. I suppose it really depends on the presentation. Sometimes I hustle past, doing my best to ignore them. Other times I apologize for not being able to help them, and other times still I actually dig in and pull out some cash. I’m very inconsistent.

Tonight, however, I have no change to give even if I wanted to. Nor do I have smokes to lend, nor matches to light said smokes. I do, however, have a portable computer in my pocket. I nod hello to the folks on the street and walk quickly and quietly home.