'Meet Crazy People' Day

"Waiting for...Godot?" I heard a man standing behind me say as I waited for the light to change to cross Guadalupe onto UT's campus. "Waiting....waiting for...?" he kept muttering over my shoulder.

I slid my book forward so he could read the title. "Waiting for....God! Well! Isn't that...different!" he said. "Simone...Bouvier?"

"Simone Weil [ v e ]*," I corrected. "She was a French woman."

"Wasn't there a Simone Bouvier? A Feminist?" He had a red felt bag strapped over his shoulder and long, wild grey hair kept under a hat. "She wrote....the Feminist...Mystique?" His words dragged out of his mouth with wasteful resonance. He smelled of alcohol and his blue eyes, though pointed at me, seemed to be looking past me or over me.

"I'm not sure," I answered.

He looked at my books again. "Ayn Rand? Whoa, you are seeeeerious! You must be taking an English class!"

"No, it's just for fun," I said.

"Wow! Be careful, they say...inside every reader....there's a writer."

"I think that's true. Do you like to write?" I asked him. The light for the crosswalk changed and we stepped into the street.

"I keep a journal. That's why I like to talk to strangers, interesting people to write about. Nice meeting you!" He abruptly veered to my right, crossing behind me. I had been trying to keep my eyes steadily on him (for safety) but I gave up turning my head to the left as he disappeared from my sight.

Then I walked into the Union building to use the computer and another crazy person, this time a lady, approached me. The story was not very compelling (well, neither was the first one), she only introduced herself to me, using her nickname, which I forgot. I know it was her nickname because she said, "Hello, my nickname is..." She didn't say anything to me after that.

Well, crazy people have to go somewhere in the sweltering summer heat. May as well come talk to me.


*I'm pretty sure that's the correct way to phonetically transcribe the sound "vay." Anyone wanna challenge me?