I've been away from Sellwood Street for awhile, but my commute takes me through the old neighborhood every day, right past the old house,which I'm glad to see still looks like it probably did in 1950 - Grey asbestos tiles on a High Victorian with historic details hidden beneath layers of white paint slapped on by the various property management companies over the years...
Today, I found myself a block up from the old apartment, my face on the pavement in front of the pink church. I collected myself and the bike, and after rinsing the blood from my face with a fellow biker's water bottle, I headed over to the gazebo at Dawson Park to wait for Graham to come scoop me up and take me home in the car. As I sat with my elbow dripping blood onto the sidewalk, holding my favorite Powell's t-shirt to catch the blood from my nose, I hear a woman ask "can you help me out with fifty cents?"
I'm a little bit not right at this point, considering which shrub I should throw up in, and if I should maybe start walking across the street towards the Emanuel E.D. I can't muster anything more clever than "I don't have any change," to which she answers, "a dollar would be fine." I think my fat lip and bleeding nose really enhanced the "fuck off" look I gave her. She kept on walking...
