If you’ve ever walked the streets of Boston, even for only a minute, you know that they’re filled with some pretty strange shit. Sometimes, though, you’re taken back by something, be it in a good way or bad. For example, as I write this, I’m being watched by a man dressed fully in black leather. Every piece of clothing was cow hide at one point, and coincidentally he wears a ponytail down to his lower back. His head is sparkly bald on top though. Where else could you see a character like that? However, this man is not the reason for my writing. What struck me today was a man I saw in the Back Bay. He was clearly homeless; my opinion being based on the cart of things next to him that were filthy and on the condition of his guitar. But somehow he had aquired a microphone and a small speaker to go with it. Anyway, I looked at him the same way everyone else probably does or would. But then he started to play, and that little speaker had some power, filling the station with his voice. Nothing I’ve ever seen or heard live could have exceeded how good this man was. Furthermore, a lot of the things I’ve heard recorded now seem a bit inferior. He was magnificent and even if no one thought so he’d keep playing. I threw some change into his case, all I had in my pocket. He nodded, as he was mid-song. A man that was standing beside me waited until the song was over, and apologized that he had no change. The homeless singer said, “Don’t worry man. Thanks for listening.” Made me think.