"Strands of Amazing Marvelousness"

His beard is almost as manged and matted as his woolen scarf. On the corner of Glisan and 18th, he parks his bicycle with bags piled on top. He throws cigarette buts back out on the street; he picks up the scattered papers; he picks up the trash and throws it away. He has "four eyes", partly due to the fact that he wears glasses. He looks odd to me.I wonder at his story. He has bandaids on his fingers. He comes into the coffeeshop and sets his stuff down a chair away from me and hangs his coat on the chair next to me. To be honest, I really don't want him near me. He is "unclean". He sits down and rummages through some bags. He takes out paper plates and a couple of cups and sets up his own restaurant, if you will. I wish he would have found a table of his own to do whatever he is going to do. But I feel bad for judging him. He breaks bread off of a loaf and stuffs it in his mouth. I wonder where he got these bags of stuff from. He is interesting to me; but too close for comfort. I feel my muscles tighten; my heart beats faster from anxiety. I scoot over a little away from him. I hope he leaves soon. I wonder if he makes it a habit to come in here and do whatever he is doing. I came here and found the perfect chair and he is ruining it for me. The chair was in a corner with windows on either side. The counter is at bar height. It was a lovely spot, relatively secluded. A table opened up near us. He got up and is currently transporting his "junk" to the other table and takes up residence there. I am glad for this fact. I can now focus entirely on writing. Except for one fact: Downtown is utterly distracting to me, in a good way though. I am in constant state of amazement with everything downtown! The people. The places. The architecture. The motion. The "beat". the pure marvelousness of it all! I observe the many people surrounding me. They are strangers. They are passerbys. They are odd. They are happy. They, too, are amazed.///
///The sun has gone down behind the trees. The bottom leaves of the crowns of the trees are vibrant; the tops are yellowish-gold. They are lovely. They are marvelous. I see amazement in the people around me too. People are quite amazing, I find. I could just stare at people for hours. I could look at books of black and white portraits for days on end and be totally satisfied with the experience. The truth people reveal through their eyes is amazing. Everything that surrounds me right now is what I consider to be a "strand of amazement"--a "strand of marvelousness." Psalm 118:23 says: "This is the Lord's doing; it is marvelous in our eyes." I have marvelousness in my eyes. Everything I see now is amazing. Everything is marvelous to me. I can't stop looking at things. I can't stop seeing things. I want to see things. I want to behold their marvelousness. Again, as I said, its very distracting. But oddly enough, I came down here to be amazed. I came here to document these strands of marvelousness. I really did. But I find that I am too distracted by seeing these amazing strands that I do not want to stop looking at it in order to document it. I need to be more disciplined I think.///
///*Upon further observation of the bicycle-bag man, I have just realized that I was wrong in my first comparison of him("his beard is almost as manged and matted as his woolen scarf") I am embarrassed! What I thought was his scarf, is actually his hair! The way it hung down around his neck and over his shoulder and on his chest made it appear to be a scarf, when in actuality, it is his matted hair. How utterly disgusting! But I must admit that it is amazing! What a talent to possess: making your hair appear to be a wool scarf. Now that takes talent. Although he may be ignorant of his talent, it is nonetheless a great one.///He was actually just asked by the manager to leave because he's not a customer and he is taking up a table. A reasonable thing to ask. "Okay. I'm almost done here," the man uttered back. His speech was very precise. He meant every word he said. I honor that. As a writer, I find that "virtue"(meaning what you say) to be very important. As a writer, you cannot waste words. He didn't do that. In short, I am amazed by him. He is a "strand of marvelousness" I say today. How wonderful.///
///I reflect on what I have written up to this point. I have written quite a bit. I am amazed about how much I have written up to this point. I am ever thankful for my God given gift for writing. It's another "strand of marvelousness" in my life presently. Across the street I see whimsical houses. They are painted with at least seven different colors--and not boring colors. They are bright happy colors. Their architecture even possesses whimsy. They look almost as if they are a joke. It makes me smile. They are yet another "strand of marvelousness." I have developed writer's cramp. I envy the man two seats away from me who types on his laptop. It would make tings easier. While I would love a laptop, I think that even if I had one, I would still handwrite alot of my things. I think handwriting is an art in and of itself. It is added to my list as a "strand of marvelousness." The man who is typing on his laptop is another strand. He looks oddly familiar to me. He has blond hair with a hint of red. His beard is more red with warmer tones of brown. He sips from a sky blue tea cup. I know not what he is doing on his laptop; but I did notice that he looks up from the screen quite a bit. Maybe he is amazed too. I would hope that he is! I suppose I will leave him to whatever he is doing.///
///An old gent sits outside at the table. He is only about three feet away from me, but we are separated by a glass wall, referred to formally as a window. He is reading a book. I can't quite tell what it is though. His hair is mostly "salted", with some specks of "pepper." He adorns glasses. He also wears neutral shades, starting with his brown leather coat, brown textured slacks, and tan tennis shoes. He smokes a cigarette. The plumes of smoke blow away from him following the path of the wind. I find amazement in that very site. Another plume of smoke rises around him and dissipates in the air. It's a "strand of marvelousness." He gets up and walks back to his car, book in hand. I can read the title now: "A Hole in the Universe." The universe is an amazing thing in my eyes. People all around finish their drinks and head off to their next destination. I wonder how long I have been here. I lose ALL track of time when I am doing the things I love. My perception of time is completely lost. Time is also a "strand of amazement." The things I love are "strands of amazement." I suppose everything is a strand of amazement to somebody. I think you can tell alot about a person by what they consider to be strands of amazement.///
///I see another house across the street. It is faded golden yellow in color with creamy white trim. Absorbing the house in its entirety with my eyes, I find the spindles to be the most amazing. The many negatives spaces of the spindles are marvelous and incredible in my eyes. Yes, I love spindles. They are amazing. A man is currently standing on the sidewalk waiting to cross the crosswalk. He yams and stretches. I find yawns to be quite amazing too. Add that to my list! The coffeeshop has cleared out considerably since I first arrived. Even though he was asked to leave awhile ago, the bicycle-bag-beard man still sits at the table, his stuff strewn across the table. He has fallen asleep.///
///I catch glimpse of my reflection in the "glass wall"(which I find to be utterly amazing!) I see my eye staring back at me. The truth inside myself floods out and inundates me. I see it through my eyes. I find my eyes to be "strands of marvelousness". Their color is blue with hints of green. A honey brown dot is placed in the sea of green-ish blue color. the dot just sits there. I believe the most truth that is revealed through my eyes comes from that brown dot, or a "rust spot" as it has been called. Yes, my eyes are marvelous. I also find my newly found optimism to be quite the amazing "strand of marvelousness." It is indeed a marvelous thing to see amazement in everything. I still struggle; but once I find my "ish", the rest follows. when I'm writing, I am very much in my "ish". Writing is my "ish." My "ish" is a "strand of marvelous amazement" INDEED!///
///I end this blurb--what a strand of marvelousness this amazing blurb was!///