Vivian P. James

To be honest I forgot about this blog, right around the time my laptop stopped working.

I've been trying to walk less. My heels are cracked and cut, toes likewise. Every morning my feet ache. But I felt like a chicken burger.
Walking down to Willys, I passed by some mustached teenage boys in suits and ties. They're playing soccer in a dirt field. Some older, surprisingly not mustached, men were playing cricket in front of a linen shop. Underneath a walkway that leads into a hotel and the second floor of shops, I think to myself it's good that none of them have any talent, or there'd be no windows.
So finally got to Willys and greeted by the rare acquaintance of Vivian P. James. He's told me many times, I think the P. is Pashak (that sounds Russian though...I was just reading some Solzhenitsyn). Anyway, Vivian, an early thirties, tall (for an Indian) man, would not stand out much, besides the height, except for his profound affliction with what I'll call Parkinsons. He claims it's not, but doesn't know what it is.
Our first encounter wound up with us playing Jenga. Willy's is a smallish restaurant, library, bookstore, and coffee place. They have several board games, puzzles and magazines. Vivian and I were sitting, talking. A couple guys at the table next to ours were playing Jenga. Jenga is a game with little wooden rectangular blocks all the same size. You arrange them into a tower of blocks and then take turns pulling them out. Whoevers turn it is when the tower falls, loses. He interpreted my looking at them as a desire to play and suggested it. This poor man could not take a sip from his glass without spilling more than what got into his mouth. He won.
Tonight will probably be our last encounter. Vivian will be another story. I shared a little of my garlic toast and more talk. Not one to shy away from personal details, there's plenty for me to pray for.
On my way back to Farley I took an auto, spare myself ~2 mile hike. The desire to personalize ones possessions here is ubiquitous. Generally stickers and generally religious, this particle auto driver had a comedically anachronistic sticker of a Franciscan monk holding baby Jesus next to a gray man sitting in a lotus position in front of a temple with goats, next to some woman, etc.