No frost on the windows.

I was strolling through Central Park a bit ago, on my way back home from doing some studying, rolling my bike along and about to hop on and start riding. I came to an intersection of two park drives, and heard this dude from a ways off singing at the top of his lungs, a moderately tuneful R&B acapella (his own invention? unclear): "Rainy days, fade away/ When you're gone, I can't do without you babe..." One of those moments when I'm wrapped up in my head and suddenly the world is strangely resonant with what I'm thinking on. He was walking up the bike path on the opposite side of the street I was now crossing. As I moved in front of him to hop over the wooden rail that sections off the pedestrian walkway, we passed so close that I was compelled to make eye contact with him. It was either that or look away deliberately like I thought him crazy- which he may have been, but when I'm alone these distinctions seem strange to me and for better or worse I tend towards engagement over distance. I shot him a glance, but he was staring up at the blank night sky. I hefted my bike over the low railing and continued along on the foot path.

I was moving faster than him and his song receded behind me- just as I gained enough distance to lose his words, he fell into some kind of breakdown at a tempo that clashed with the slightly brooding mood he was projecting just a moment before. After a bit I was ready to get riding, so I took a quick seat on the railing to hook my lights up. As I sat there the crooner caught back up to me, and I realized his breakdown was basically a vocalized personals ad carried to extremes. It was something between a rap and a simple list of his personal strengths: "All the works of my hands, they prosper/ I've earned many academic achievements/ I excel at every sport/ I am blessed, I am blessed, I am blessed..."