Hope everyone, and by everyone I mean the three or four people that read this blog, had a great holiday season. I’m glad I came up with a closing entry for last year.

A few things have gone on since I last blog. I find it really difficult to blog regularly here but I have no problems with TSA. Perhaps it’s just easier to blog about something else other than myself, or perhaps I just want to paint myself in a better light and I wait until something exciting happens.

Or in the case of this post, until something particularly weird and twilight-zone-esque happens. No, this has nothing to do with shiny vampires! The Twilight Zone was a show about weird and unexpected… oh forget it.

Today was one of those days in which I broke the routine, caught the bus, got off before my stop, caught a bite, walked around, got cash from the ATM and got stopped by a gentleman who talked to me for about ten minutes. I met him as a I was leaving the ATM. I saw him with my peripheral vision crossing the street. For some reason I knew this  person was particular, I couldn’t say why. He was an older gentleman of short stature and white beard.

No, no reindeer nearby.

He asked me about banks. Actually, he told me about them. His conversation was more about the poor treatment he was getting from his bank with the excuse of asking me if my bank from which I had just stepped out was any better. He was just talking more than asking. I couldn’t tell how much of what he was telling me was true, except that I could tell he wanted to talk. As he talked, I checked the street just to make sure that I wasn’t about to get mugged. This was St-Laurent though, and there was enough people on the street for me to feel safe.

I kept wondering if at any point in his talk I’d have to interrupt him and make up some excuse to go, but none of the usual warnings were really flashing in my head. So I stood and listen. He didn’t struck me as the crazy type, but he was definitely peculiar. Perhaps he was lonely. Finally he finished his monologue about banks, separatists and the French (from France) and shook my hand.

“You seem like a nice person,” he said. “Stay that way. We need nice persons like you.”

And after wishing me a happy new year he took off.

There’s something about this universe that can still make me feel very happy and sad at the same time. As long as it makes me smile (albeit leaving me a little confused) I’ll be grateful.

That will do for now.