"The West End is too dirty, the Police should give them less Christmas trees this year"

What I was looking at when I had the great first listen to In Rainbows last Friday.

I'm never quite sure if I should feel guilty for enjoying a conversation with someone who has had serious mental problems and obviously still suffers, but not so much that they are a danger to themselves or others. This is particularly a thing when I am mostly providing a listening pair of ears to a guy who just needs to work off some steam over all the anxieties he has about shitty bus drivers, who is sure are all satanists that want to ruin Christmas and that the petrol companies must be furious that such individuals are using their petrol to drive buses so poorly. This was, of course, the case today as I settled down in the little park in Hammersmith where I like to spend my lunch hours.

He had a Union Jack took on and when he sat beside me, he assured me that nothing was in his old shopping bag but "food, good food, nice food". I smiled and told him it was alright by me. I was enjoying yet another listen of In Rainbows, with my head lolling back on the bench as I sat and watched the leaves fall from the higher branches. A few minutes passed and he politely asked me what I thought of bus drivers. I pulled out my earphones and turned off my iPod as I started to answer, but was swiftly cut off. I suppose I found myself on the outskirts of annoyance but not for more than a moment as I quickly realized that he must have a hard time getting people to listen to him or take him seriously. The poor guy had ancient jeans on, a hand rolled cigarette that was clearly prized, a second-hand looking blue winter jacket, a graying beard that blended into the hair which poked out from under his took and framed a pair of vivid but not frightening eyes and...an earnestness in his voice.

As some asshole in an American Apparel track sweater, a scarf from M&S, Ben Sherman shoes, pants from a boutique in Camden and a beard still full of color...well I felt the least I could do was hear him out. Besides, as much as the minds of these individuals are hampered by their conditions...sometimes they also seem to be untethered in ways. I'm probably guilty of romanticizing here, but the guy did have a kind of charm and friendly nature to him as he informed me of all sorts of dangers and "well known facts" about London. The bus drivers I mentioned were one and the title of this post was another. Authority figures of all shapes and sizes were always very paternal in his view and it was interesting to imagine oil executives, police and politicians being very disappointed in people the way your parents might be very disappointed in you for cheating on a test at school.

In the end I'd like to think I wasn't being patronizing. I listened far more than I spoke, a novelty as anyone who knows me can attest, and when I smiled I wasn't smiling at "the big retard"...I was smiling because I kind of admired the inventiveness with which he'd constructed his view of the world and how this supposedly "damaged" man repeatedly surprised and intentionally amused me (he had a knack for playing on words I'd be a fool not to appreciate) more than any of the other people I'd spoken to all day. I overstayed my break a bit to hear him longer, then bid him a friendly farewell. I actually kind of hope I get to see him one or two times more.
By the by, for Ottawa readers or those who've once lived there, I thought I'd mention that the Xpress is having an online poll for the best places in Ottawa for this, that and the other thing. It's downtown centric for the most part, not that that bothers me, but I did rather enjoy voting for the Carp Farmer's Market.