Ace

tio hobo is back at Birthday Man's for a drink. his arm is in some sort of makeshift cast and wrapped with a ridiculous amount of ace bandage. he pees on BM's gate and wanders off.

Unmuzzled

Birthday Man is walking his dog. actually, i think it would be more appropriate to say that the dog is walking him; i don't think he'd be able to stand on his own. the dog, a big rottweiler, is not wearing his usual muzzle. a car pulls up next to them and someone sticks their hand out and waves. the dog lunges, paws up on the car. this is not a friendly lunge. there are teeth bared. BM pulls him back, and in doing so, loses his balance. he falls, sprawling, onto the hood of his friend's car. it takes him a minute to get up again. both he and the driver seem pretty shaken. the dog seems fine.

Old Hobo vs. Yuppy Dad

i look out and see a man with his pants around his ankles and untidy whiteys around his knees. he's leaning/sitting against Birthday Man's garage door, pissing slowly. he seems to be holding a balloon in his right hand. don't ask me why. it looks like he's about to move on to the pooping. the man from the second floor 2 buildings down from mine sees him and, pardon the pun, gets pissed. he obviously doesn't want the old hobo to finish his business with the explosive diarrhea that is bound to come next. since his wife and tiny son are on the back porch, i kind of see his point. yuppy dad starts shouting, rather violently, for him to pull his pants up and get out of here. old hobo is not really with it, and instead eats something he's been holding in his balloon hand this whole time. i'm trying not to wonder what it was. while doing this, he may or may not have given yuppy dad the finger. if he did, it was very slight. either way, yuppy dad loses patience and opens up the big sliding gate. he comes out shouting. his wife starts yelling "get away from him! get away!! don't touch him!!" i mean like screaming at him. i'm not sure if she's worried that this inebriated hobo has a concealed weapon of some sort (god knows where he'd be storing it), or if she's worried that her husband might assult the guy, or if she just doesn't want fecal matter on her spouse. so yuppy dad waggles his finger in old hobo's face and continues to shout, veins flaring in his neck, as he retreats through his fence. the hobo gets his pants most of the way up and meanders down the alley. yuppy dad is really worked up and asking his neighbors if they just saw that shit. he gets out his cell and calls 911, which really seems unnecessary since, i mean, the guy has his pants on and is no longer within sight. but i can see old hobo set down a milk crate just around the corner from the fence to finish his 40. yuppy dad realizes that he's there and tries to yell around the corner at him. 2 neighbors from a different building are unloading their car next to this and don't really seem to know what to do. yuppy dad is getting even more worked up. unable to wait any longer for the popo, he goes marching down the alleys and up and down the streets, trying to find a squad car. they finally come, and he goes running down the alley to meet them. he marches next to the car, guiding them, pointing at the hobo all the while. then we points at the pee puddle. the cops shout "take your bottle and your crate and get out of here!" most of the cops around here are usually cooler about this kind of thing. old hobo staggers away, and i hear him muttering "sorry, sorry." old hobo tosses his crate and bottle (a new furniture store?) into a dumpster and leans against it, trying to get his bearings. another cop car comes down the alley from the other direction, and they try to pass each other. hands emerge from the windows and slap down side mirrors. they try to go fast so that they don't look like incompetent idiots, but they fail. the 2nd car finally passes the 1st and pulls up next to the hobo and his dumpster. after lecturing him for a minute, the cop slowly follows him down the alley in his car, and they both disappear around the corner.

Tio Hobo

the hobo who told me to call him "tio", likes to sit on the stairs by the train, and alternates between shouting at me to smile and shouting at me to give him change (when he's sober enough to speak, which is seldom) is hanging with Birthday Man. BM pours him a dixie cup from his 40. tio sets it down, pisses right next to it, splattering everywhere, then picks it up and downs it in one go.

On a More Serious Note...

Birthday Man is extra drunk tonight. 2 women are around. he's yelling at one of them, something like "why won't you let me see my kid?!" at least one of the women is drunk as well. this one tries to calm him down while the other one he yells at walks away. he goes back inside.

Cinco De Mayo!

i expected lots of people to be running around partying in the alley tonight, but there's like no one. then i see this guy. he's standing in the middle of the alley that runs right by my building with his shirt off and something around his arm. i jokingly think to myself, "what is he doing, tying off?" i'm not serious, but i soon realize that he is. i watch, unable to think of what to do, as he shoots up right there in the middle of the alley. he doesn't even bother to sit down first. once he's done getting everything he can into the vein, he somehow manages to put the syringe into this little pouch he's carrying. he just stands there for a minute, then takes what i now perceive to be a bike tire inner tube off of his arm and ties it around his waist in place of a belt. he's swaying pretty bad at this point. now it's time for him to try to put his shirt back on. he stumbles a few steps to his left as he gets his left arm in, but then seems totally incapable of getting it over his head. he knows when to quit, at least, and starts southeast down the alley with the shirt trailing behind him. after a few steps, however, he loses his momentum and somehow goes flying backwards, colliding with a dumpster. he rests for a minute. he collects himself and tries again, but soon finds himself against a brick wall on the other side of the alley, no closer to his destination. watching from my 3rd floor window, fully removed from the scenario, i am having trouble knowing what to think of all this. it's both horribly depressing, and yet, at the same time, such classic slapstick that it's hard not to laugh. so i just stand frozen. finally, a young man on a bike rides up and talks to him. it seems he's been looking for him. he puts an arm around him and rumples his hair as an uncle would to a little nephew, but their ages are reversed. he helps him walk a little, then starts biking slowly as the man starts moving on his own. he leads the man away, constantly looping back to check on him, and they disappear from my view.

Do The Can Thing

i lean out the window to get a better look at Birthday Man's new dance moves and see a man with a shopping cart below me, picking cans out of the dumpster. i grab a couple bags of cans i've been collecting, yell "hey!", and let them drop the 3 stories to the ground. he yells something, then hurries over, muttering to himself. i will later find out that he is totally insane and shouts to himself in spanglish at all times. i'm worried that he thinks i'm rude, but i yell "wait!" and run to get more cans. i drop 3 more bags, then 3 more, then 3 more... in the end, there are 18 bags of cans piled up under my window. he mumbles something that sounds like a thank you, and i shout "no, thank you! it was fun!" because it was.

Birthday Man = BM

Birthday Man is rocking out by his garage with a bottle of malt liquor again. a hobo dude comes up and they chat. Hobo man gives him something. BM (heheh) hands something to him with a sneaky handshake. they're looking around all stealthy-like this whole time. hmmm... maybe this is how Birthday Man pays the bills.

DA-YUM!!

i hear a man shouting. i look out the window and see him standing between a car and the garage right outside. he's slapping the hood of the car and yelling "DAMN! da-yum! damn!"over and over. "DAAAAMN!!" he's jerking around a lot, and i start to worry that he's jerking off. he does have one hand in his pocket... ew. eventually, he finishes doing whatever he was doing and heads southeast down the alley.