The Dance Of The Old Man

This old man has the moves. He is graceful like a tiger that just ate a ballerina. Watch the way he shakes DAT THANG. He frequents the local concerts in the park here, and dances the whole time. Think about it, you lazy young punks. This geezer probably buys his Ecstasy from the same guy that you do, but I don't see you going one fourth as crazy on the dance floor as he does. I have also heard (from reliable sources) that this man used to enjoy wearing shorts that were quite scandalously revealing, a fact that I am sure will bring you the sweetest of magical summertime dreams as you are lulled soothingly to sleep by his gyrating motions*. And did you see that roof being raised, that butter being churned? That's what our senior citizens were doing back when you were their age, and now you are just sitting on your ass and dicking around on the internet and listening to the MTV Videogames. From the same reliable source I gleaned the previous information from, I can tell you that during slow songs he rubs his hands all over his body, as if he was siphoning pure sexy grease from the air onto his hands and then trying to rub it in to his skin so that it can be absorbed into his pores.
At the end of the show, the old man stopped dancing, as even he is not enough of a wild rogue to dance without music. I felt alone inside, as I thought I wouldn't be seeing him again. Later that evening, however, I saw him on his bike, pure poetry in motion with a newsboy cap. I thought about yelling something about how  his motions were smooth, sublime and beautiful like unicorn diarrhea, but I decided that his art was best left unspoken, like a prayer.



*Which, by the way, will be forever burned into your skull after watching this video.

The Old Scottish Man

In May I attended the Highland Festival in Alma, Michigan. I arrived, not expecting to see so many old Scottish men showing of their shapely, beach ready legs in tartan kilts. This was one of them, though he was obviously a modest old chap, because one can only see the small amount of leg between his stockings and his kilt. I must remind the reader, of course, that a kilt is different from a skirt in multiple ways, with the main reason being that one does not wear underpants with a kilt. With this in your mind as well as all the...delightful images that come along with it, we shall change the subject.
This old man was watching a herding dog chase fluffy little sheep around a field. As shown in the photo, this old man is wearing a little green beer tent bracelet which demonstrates that he is of drinking age, which is below a minimum requirement to be observed for the Silver Fox Observation Deck. Yes, this old man has probably been drinking Scotch and eating strange parts of sheep and goats like any true Scotsman. I am unsure of the tartan on his kilt, but surely he is from a fine pipe-playing, fighting, spendthrift Scottish family.

Hold On Tight, Mister Bicycle Man

Now what might that be, off in the distance? That speck upon the horizon is an old man, riding a bicycle whilst also looking snazzy in a suit. He is riding with his back straight and a helmet on his noggin, like a proper snazzy old man aught to. As shown by our photo, his arrival was celebrated with a parade, complete with a Lawton wearing his best neon pink shoelace bowtie and waving excitedly to the old man that he obviously admires greatly, and myself dressed to the nines as a 1970's era prostitute*. The old man, however, rode away on his bicycle, barely even noticing our appreciation of his existence further than glancing at the silly hats worn by several and the shortness of my dress. The old man too icily cool to do anything but ignore us; tossing our love back into our faces. This only turned us into more ravenous fans of the old man who dares to dream and wear a suit while riding a bike. We were crushed, yet eager to be crushed again by such a god among AARP members. Please return old man, please return as we ache for your closeness.







*A Russian one, named Ivanka.

The Old Man at The Coffee Shop

We watched this old man at a local coffee shop on Monday. He's obviously a with-the-times old fellow, considering his presence at a coffee joint frequented by people who like lawful, indoor graffiti and his use of a computer (most old people tend to yak about how those young people spend all of their time on those damn brain sucking satellite typewriters these days). We did not find it necessary to circle him in the photo this time around, as his shirt is in fact the color of radioactive laser tag urine and he therefore isn't hard to see. He is also rocking' the shorts (Bermuda shorts? I'm fashion challenged.) and baseball cap, preparing for summer despite the temperature that day being about 40 degrees Fahrenheit ('Merika! Our measurements make no sense AND WE LIKE IT!1!). We only got a fleeting chance to view this old man, as he walked off, perhaps noticing our observation (Heisenberg's uncertainty principle CAN be applied to old men!), and leaving us cold and broken inside. This old man may not have been an old man on the inside, but instead a hip youth who likes local coffee shops. We may never know, as our only memory of him is this photograph.

The paper that started it all

OBSERVING THE OLD MAN WHO WAS READING

The person we chose to observe was an old man who was reading. He had a long-sleeved blue shirt on. He was bald except he had a crown of white hair on the outside of his head, as well as a beard. He also had large glasses, possibly bifocals. We all wrote down that he was an old man, except Caroline who more specifically said he was male and probably over 65. He had a small, brown paper bag in front of him, suggesting that he may have been taking a rest from shopping. He looked clean. Casandra and Caroline said that he looked like he was in deep concentration, and Lexi said he looked irritated. We all wrote down that his head moved while he was reading. Caroline wrote down that he scratched the left side of his head. We wrote down that his hands shook slightly even when he wasn’t turning the page. He shifted his body position only once. We all noticed that his watch was on his left hand. We noticed this because he picked his nose. We assumed he was right handed because if you try to put the watch on your dominant hand, it gets in the way. He seemed to have been sitting for a while, as what we assumed to be his bookmark was far from the place that he was in his book at the time of observation. We observed him for twelve minutes before he got up and left. He put his book in an inside pocket of a beige jacket and walked out of our lives forever, but he was unforgettable. Goodbye old man reading a book in the mall food court.

This was our original paper. Our psych teacher refuses to print any document in a font other than comic sans so we wrote our paper in comic sans as well. Didn't get the response we wanted, but whatever. The part about the poor man picking his nose is false. We wanted to get some reaction out of her, but again nothing... Oh well.

The picture is what I was doing while Caroline and Casandra were staring at the old man.

Weekend Excursion

I went to Birmingham this weekend for a water polo tournament and we had 5 hours between games to kill today. We went to the Somerset Mall to kill time. After looking at all the expensive shops and things we couldn't afford, we stopped at the Starbucks for smoothies and frappachinos. We took our tasty drinks to near the fountains and saw this snazzy old man. He sat there. Staring. Not talking or moving. Just sat there with his cane next to his leg and his hat on his head. I think he may have noticed me taking his picture too...

The Old Man In The Park

We observed this old man last week at a local park. He was walking around, then sitting at a bench, then sitting at a picnic table, as he is in this photo. He had a styrofoam cup with a beverage in it, maybe booze. At one point some young guy started walking towards him, and we became full of excitement, anticipating a fight or a drug deal (you know how these old guys are), but then the young guy walked by and nothing happened. We were somewhat concerned that the old man saw us (We were sitting atop the giant tires on the playground. We were doing strange things as well as watching the man.). He may have seen us, actually, because he got up and left. Like the other old man, this one was reading a book. We will miss this old man. He warmed our hearts and filled us with joy.

The Beginning

We started watching old men because our crazy psychology teacher told us to observe people and record their reactions. We found the perfect person, an old man innocently sitting in our local mall food court. I drew a picture while my associates took notes on his actions. That poor man. All he did was read in a mall food court.