kindness strange poet every thing you do comes back to you...so why not live peacfully and be kind...make your name poetry. 990414 ... meeker bleh 990510 ... fryed Chikkin will generally be betrayed. 000511 ... misstree the other day, on my way to a concert got stopped by someone who had jsut been robbed... cops caught the guys, but they hed his $47 as evidence. he had a train ticket to chicago, but had no money to get home from the train station. i can tell the difference between being shaken because of substances and shaken because of crisis, and he was in crisis--i could amost see his whole world lying mangled and bleeding on the sidewalk. i brought him to the bar so i could get change, he refused my offer to buy him a beer, and gave him the $10 he needed, though cash is incredibly tight right now. i've been in his place before, and there's always been someone there to help. i've been told it was a very kind action, that it will come back to me: to me, it was a small part of returning the favor to all the strangers from my past, and i am very grateful to have been able to. 020316 ... misstree i've spent so much of my life as a mooch, a stray cat, a bum and a waste of skin (rarely by choice), that nowadays any time someone does something nice for me i feel compelled to do something in return, or i get horrific churnings of guilt. if someone gives me a ride, i offer them food or cigarettes. at the bar, i insist on reading poetry for people to wheedle drinks out of them, and get perturbed when they offer to buy me one out of the blue. i make the people that i'm friendly with at work uncomfortable, because i offer extravagant things for simple kindnesses, showing obvious distress when i can't buy a soda for the ride home, or buy them lunch for helping me cash my paycheck. not that it really matters. but i thought i'd clutter up blatherdom with useless information about my insecurities anyway. and you can't stop me. *sigh* 030908 what's it to you? who go blather from