a homeless man, judging by appearance, approached me around chambers street. he was holding out a dollar bill and trying to get my attention through a series of strange faces, gestures, and, presumably, words that i didn't hear since i was listening to "don't say motherfucker, motherfucker" at this point. i took off my headphones and it seems this gentleman wished to pay me a dollar to let him touch my hair.
i didn't take the dollar, but let him touch my hair anyway. i haven't washed my hair in days so it's not like he could make it worse, in terms of grossness, really. he left at the next stop, and i resumed my turbonegro presummer ramp up.