observations while walking down the street

This blog? it takes no "effort" because I'm not worried about "creating art."
What is creating art? It's purposely sitting down to make something good, it's worrying about craft (in my case; grammar, sentence structure, image, cleverness) and meaning. Which I don't really do here.
why do i always apologize to homeless people when I don't give them change?
i lied to a homeless guy and said I didn't have any cash. I did. I had a $20 in my wallet. Briefly I flirted with the notion of saying I'd give him the $20 if he let me interview him, ask him why he was on the street, all that. So I could tell his story to someone.
Why didn't you buy him food? He was eating pizza.
Why didn't you give him money? He was drunk.
Why didn't you guide him to places that could "help" him? I'm sure he knows those places better than I do, and there's probably a reason he's sitting on the street corner, drunk, eating pizza, asking for change.
In my mind his face is sooty, like a portrait from the Great Depression. In reality it wasn't.

my stories are not good because they're not completely coherent. I need to work on that. I need to work on logical progressions.

saw myself at age 70: overweight, bent, wearing a sun visor, with a shrivelled little gentleman on my arm. That would be H. We both walk slowly (but as fast as we can) towards a golden Toyota Corolla. I have the keys. I'm driving. He's cool with that.

bought eyeshadow. girl at the counter seemed disgusted with my colour choice. i bought a set of 3 metallic shades: gold, bronze, shimmery black. i now have 3 different types of black eyeshadow.

this? this takes no effort because I'm not thinking about it, not trying to draw conclusions or tell a story.

i'm slowly turning into a zombie. that's why I have so much black eyeshadow.