After doing a lot of painting today, I cleaned. Because I’m a minimalist at heart, I also like to combine and discard. I headed out to the dumpster with my arms loaded. A black SUV drove in next to me. As I was throwing things into the lovely dumpster, population 13,436 flies, two of the three people in the SUV exited and walked over to me talking. It didn’t occur to feel like they were up to no good. “What’s up with your shirt, man?” one of them asked me. They stopped two feet away from me. “I sewed it that way. It’s custom. I call them ripshirts. If it tears, you just sew it again with another wild color.” They looked at each other. “Dude, you should totally market that sh*t. That is dope, for sure.” I laughed. “They take a lot of time to make by hand.” One of them said, “Well, then charge a lot. That’s one of a kind.” Though it’s not germane, I should say that they were young black guys. They both fist-bumped me.
As they walked toward a downstairs neighbor, I said, “You should totally bang on the door and shout ‘POLICE!.’ Both of the guys burst out laughing. The guy waiting in the SUV stuck his head out, laughing uproariously at my comment. One of the guys said, “Yeah, for sure, next time we’re going to do that.” I laughed. “Next time? Do it at every house you go to. People say they want excitement in life. Give it to them.”
I love my ripshirts and that they take so much time to make. That’s three times today someone has complimented me unexpectedly on my wild sense of color and creativity. I needed it today, believe me. Four, if you count the clerk who loved my brooch that I made yesterday. I took it off and gave it to her. She gladly accepted it and put it on her shirt immediately. I don’t know her name. I’d like to think it was Joy or Happy.
P.S. I love random moments and I’d like to thank the universe for this one. My head was starting to be a cyclone of anxiety. I apologize for the selfies.