August 10th 1:14pm - Too Sexy

We have partaken in some thievery over the years in the form of wireless internet that we've never paid for. It is completely irrational that myself and my current roommates became aggravated and annoyed when the continually free internet access perished. Consequently, today I marched the couple of blocks to my former university campus to situate myself in a lounge with wireless. Approaching the desired room, I was bombarded with exquisite piano notes that delighted my ears. I happily proceeded inside. Having an extreme deficiency in the musical arena, I have no idea what score was being played. I can tell you with my extensive expertise it might have resembled Bach. Listening to the notes had a blissful effect on my mood. It wasn't until I had draped myself over the couches and leaned back with my laptop nestled on my lap that I looked at the pianist. He appeared to be approximately fifty years old... and homeless. His graying hair was disheveled and protruded in all directions. His lined, gaunt face plastered with dirt, he wore an oversized torn black shirt seemingly made for a three-hundred pound man. His skeletal frame attested to the fact that his appearance wasn't exactly maintained. The pianist wore black pants that hugged his legs (appearing to be female jeans) and were wildly too short for his lanky body. He wore two different socks. He wore one black scuffed shoe. And he was outrageously talented on the piano. A pink bike leaned against the wall next to him. The bicycle boasted a blanket-wrapped bundle secured onto the handlebars with string. He played for five minutes, paused to sip out of a plastic bottle, played, sipped, played... I was showered with the striking gift of song for close to twenty minutes before the music ceased. And then his scratchy, abrasive voice radiated into the room. "I'm too sexy for this piano, too sexy for this piano, too sexy for this piano." Afraid to glance up, I kept my eyes down. He paused, and then repeated his serenade three times. Head down, eyes peeking, I saw the pianist/apparent singer elevate himself ceremoniously and walk to his bike. Grasping the handlebars, he sang/spoke, "I'm too sexy for this bike, too sexy for this bike, sooo sexy," and then progressed, bike in tow, to the door. He walked across the room, past me, and around the corner before I heard, "I'm too sexy for this door, too sexy for this door, too sexy..."

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Only in San Francisco would a crazy homeless man also be an amazing piano player. San Francisco equals best homeless