Walking

I’m attempting to chronicle my humdrum existence in neurotic, minute detail for the edification of future civilizations, so I thought I’d capture a few snaps from my daily routine.

Here was the scene this morning as I left my apartment. In the first photo is my address plate (on right) and view down the alley.

The next photo is my neighbor brushing his teeth. He and another guy live in tiny, cluttered room (through the red door) in bunk beds. Since they don’t have indoor plumbing they bathe in a plastic bucket wearing nothing but worn jockey shorts and an earthy, proletarian dignity. My Chinese neighbors don’t have the same modesty issues as we American folk (probably something about not being able to breathe the sweet, sweet air of freedom.) In my neighborhood underwear is considered socially-acceptable outer attire for a bicycle ride, stroll to the Lawson convenience store or state funeral.

The last photo is the intersection a few blocks away. It’s an example of the traffic that tries to kill me for no reason. Try to picture these cars honking and swerving toward you. Maybe they’re trying to hit you and harvest your kidneys. Yep, that’s it.

I made it to work exactly on time.