the people next door

across the alley from my kitchen window, there is a man giving a sorrowful rendition of "somewhere over the rainbow" to no one in particular. it is perhaps the most beautiful thing i've heard since coming to california. he is insane, completely bonkers, but sings as if he's in the center of the world longing to go someplace else.

there is a facility next to us which acts as a sort of transitional day center for the mentally ill. each morning there is a group of people outside smoking and pacing, waiting for a van to pick them up. some of them talk to walls, others rock back and forth in their chairs saying nothing, a few will wander in and out of the back door of the facility as if they're looking for someone. no one waiting seems dangerous in any way. they're all just crazy and waiting for the van. as i take a look out the window, i recognize this man as one who, with some regularity, will circle an electrical pole muttering "fuck fuck fuck" while staring at the ground. today he is singing, and a couple of other in the group of clientele have joined him in small voices. they sway a bit, changing from the traditional rocking motions, and he moves on to another song. he seems completely content in his performance, so much so that, when the garbage truck comes rolling down the block, he raises his voice even higher to hear himself sing.

"i'm walking in the raaaaaiiiiiiiinnnnn..." comes belting out just as he drops his cigarette on the ground. the man stops suddenly and silently, looking at the cigarette like a naughty child who has gotten out of his reach.. there is some slight muttering before he bends down to pick it up and continue smoking and pacing. today he circles the entire parking lot instead of just the pole and almost limps as he turns back and forth. the others have gone back to their normal quirks. he hums a bit more as he settles into his daily routine of waiting for the van to take him to whatever activities they've set forth for him. soon an engine comes rolling towards the back door of the facility and i hear them all shuffling away. there is no more singing, no more mental chattering, no more wandering circus of people outside.

they are gone. for a moment, i wonder where they go each day and what they do to pass the time as mental cases. then i wander through the kitchen to get more coffee, humming to myself and muttering about how crazy this city makes a person. i start my routine for the day.