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More Than Half a World Away
Aug. 30th, 2014 01:27 amI'm sitting at my favorite musical perch of all time – a small, concrete abuttment at Stubb's in Austin, Texas, watching G-Love, Special Sauce, and the racial divide of the country play out in front of me. I should have known from my arrival: out of work and in search of free parking, a homeless man helped me parallel park a few blocks up. “Thank you,” I told him, shaking his hand through the passenger side window.
“Thank you for not spitting on me and calling me a nigger.”
I blinked. “Why the hell would I do that?”
“Plenty of folks take it upon themselves. Probably because I'm homeless.”
“Well, fuck that.” We live in an ATM world, so I handed him a twenty. “Thanks again, and please: go do something that makes you feel good,” I tell him, echoing the words of the friend who'd bought me the ticket to the G-Love show: please, go do something that you think is fun.
( And yes, the G-Love show is definitely fun... )
“Thank you for not spitting on me and calling me a nigger.”
I blinked. “Why the hell would I do that?”
“Plenty of folks take it upon themselves. Probably because I'm homeless.”
“Well, fuck that.” We live in an ATM world, so I handed him a twenty. “Thanks again, and please: go do something that makes you feel good,” I tell him, echoing the words of the friend who'd bought me the ticket to the G-Love show: please, go do something that you think is fun.
( And yes, the G-Love show is definitely fun... )
