Interpol, smoking pot, and reading Philip K. Dick

I am cliche incarnate. Last night I tried earnestly and in vain to re-read some of my favorite Phil Dick books, but failing to reach page 20 in any of them, I took a walk. This was maybe, 11 pm last night. I had had a few drinks, and was quite high, so maybe I was weaving a bit, or otherwise making myself appear to be a likely target, but the point is that a big guy on a bike was following me around. I lost him for a few minutes, but he found me again. I was only a feew blocks from home, and was unwilling to show this guy where I lived, so I stopped and waited for him to catch up to me at the corner of Pismo and Chorro St. Here is a transcript of our conversation...
GUY ON BIKE: "Hey. You Hangin' out?"
ME: (annoyed) "Uhh, yeah."
GUY ON BIKE: "You hang out alot?"
ME: (more annoyed, slightly scared now) "Uh, I guess. What do you mean?"
GUY ON BIKE: "I'll suck your cock."
ME: (petrified): "Jesus Fucking Christ Man."

At this point I sort of walked/ran across the lawn of a nearby house, cutting across to the next street. This guy was really big, actually he looked just like Henry Rollins, may in fact have been Henry Rollins. I sat on a curb, waiting until I was sure that he was gone before I resumed walking. I walked a couple more blocks when a young guy walked up right behind me, and asked if I had seen this crazy guy on a bike. He told me a familiar story about being offered a blowjob, and asked if we could walk together until we were far from the scene of the crime. We did, and I arrived home safely. Once in the apartment I promptly poured myself a drink, picked up "The Transmigration of Timothy Archer", pushed play on the stereo, and fell asleep to to Interpol's "Turn on the Bright Lights".