though your sins be as scarlet

Big Red is a big, red man. never have i heard such an apt nickname. he has a strong, imposing stature and fiery, orange hair with a gnarled beard. i doubt that his parents chose the name Big Red for him at birth, yet, no one calls him anything different. he can be most commonly seen: in theHarbourlight food line, walking down the street carrying giant pieces of driftwood on his shoulders, or at Crab tree park setting up an artistic, perhaps religious display.

my first run-in with Big Red was a bit unnerving. he asked my friend Phil how much i cost. sick. fortunately, Phil is integral, so he shot down any ideas Red had, and we moved on hastily.

i saw him many times on the street ensuingly, and our conversations, though less perverted, were still unfavorable. i'd ask him what he was doing with the prodigious wreath he was carrying, and he'd begin speaking, and though his words and cadence sounded sane, the way he chose to combine the words made no sense to my ears. often interspersed in his rantings were the words "i am," "Jesus," "death," "died," "resurrection," and "look!"

so i tend to avoid Mr. Red. is this wrong? i'm not sure, but he makes me uneasy.

i awoke one morning a few months ago, and looked out my window. across Hastings street i saw something so peculiar that it certainly stood out in the midst of the rain, dirt and graffiti: a cross made of driftwood, covered in strips of crimson cloth, dripping with red paint...or blood...we're still not sure. it looked like a mock crucifix, some kind of pagan art. this was Big Red's masterpiece.

i'm still not sure how to respond to Big Red-- he confuses me, and he makes me uncomfortable, but i'm so interested to try and figure out his mind. in any case, he's a well known character in the Downtown East side, and he is my neighbor. may i love him as i love myself.

go on.