East Market predators

Today I sent in my application for a double major in English and Creative Writing- I had to send in 15 pages of poetry and someone in the english department will be reading it and assessing it. I don't even really know how competitive it is, but I am aware of at least one other guy I know applying too- and also that he's got an obsession with pro-wrestling.

That's what's so strange about creative writing courses by the way- you walk into a room of strangers, tell them all intimate and sometimes bizarre information about yourself, and then leave. Once a class of us were packed into an elevator and all I could think was, "she's slept with fifteen guys and calls them interchangeable" until it occurred to me that She might be thinking, "that girl hangs out in cemeteries and writes poems from the point of view of her ex boyfriend". You see my point? It's such a show of flying freak flags. 

Anyway I also went to the East Street Market today, where Charlie Chaplin once shopped. While I was looking at a pretty and cheap shirt, a man next me starting whispering and I thought he was talking to himself so I just walked away. Later I was purchasing some nectarines and there he was again, next to me and muttering. Then, the man and wife who owned the stall I was at came out from behind their counter and forcefully ejected the man from the marketplace. Did I mention that all this time I was wearing headphones and listening to Nirvana? They returned and asked if I was alright, and I asked what he was saying. The husband cocked an eyebrow at me and the wife just shook her head and told me I owed her 2 pounds 50 pence and to be careful. The mystery remains, and I think I'm fine with that.