The song of the day today is "Killing Time in Texas" by Gurf Morlix.
I stopped at a convenience store not far from Tent City on my way back last night to get something to drink. I walk in at the same time as another resident who I've spoken to on a couple occasions. He's an old man of about seventy with grey hair and a big, thick, grey beard. He doesn't have any teeth and he gives me a big, toothless grin as he stumbles inside. He's a little overweight and he always wears a pair of stained work pants and a t-shirt. On top of his head sits a hat that crowns him World's Greatest Grandpa, and I decide to call him Pops. Pops is drunk right now and he heads straight for a tub of twenty four ounce cans of high gravity beer. He picks out a can of Steel Reserve and turns to the clerk. "Rang me up one more time, boss." he tells the man with a Texas twang. Pops pays the man in change, gets a bag for his beer, and heads outside. After I pay, I head outside to find Pops waiting for me. He asks me how things are going as we begin to walk towards Tent City. I find that I have to slow my pace as Pops takes three steps swaying side to side for each one of mine moving forward. He says that he and a few guys are drinking beer behind an abandoned house near the gas station and invites me to come. I decline and we part ways. I can hear his compadres behind the house laughing at some joke I didn't hear and, even though Pops didn't hear it either, he lets out a cackle.
