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.
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I don't understand how all of these things happened on one train! All that happened on my ride to work was that I wanted to punch everybody, but didn't.
well, i was on it for a full hour, if that helps.
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