Overheard on the Metro, “Did you get the Funeral Money?”  “Did you use the Funeral Money?”  “Did you get the Funeral Money?”

Yes, she repeated it many, many times.  In a chipmonkesque voice, no less.  Her companion, who looked like an attenuated hobbit, was stunned.  He either didn’t hear her, or refused to understand.

To me, this was a welcome break from the usual Metro conversation topics: prison, parole, and baby daddy/mamma drama. Occasionally there is a reference to “weed” or other meds.

Some poor shmoe will ask for directions.  I’m not sure why, but the casual rider is mostly perplexed.

I often walk on my lunch break. I work in downtown Los Angeles. Today, I walked through skid row. On purpose. I’m not sure why. It’s been a few years since I’ve taken that route. It was a conscious decision.

On San Pedro street between 5th & 8th, there are missions a-plenty. Also cop cars. Lots and lots of the “constabulary.” The homeless hang out/mill around amongst cardboard condos, lawn chairs, boom boxes, blankets, hefty bags, and mounds of unidentifiable flotsam and jetsam, which passes for possessions. Some are dragging their few belongings in suitcases. Some, in carts. One person had a week old puppy.

And yet, it was a vibrant scene. There was dancing. One man ran in place. I witnessed at least two prayer circles/huddles, one of which seemed like a 12-step meeting.

And then, I saw this on the side of a building: I Am My Own Rainbow.

• I can get by without drinking or drugs
• I will be slow to anger
• I will not give up
• I accept myself