ericboy's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- \"Just a stranger on the bus / trying to make his way home\" - Joan Osborne I just packed; most of the clothes that I carefully folded and placed in the suitcase that I borrowed from my roommate are dirty, and I plan to wash them at my mother's house. As if I'm her hard-thinking college boy down from the weekend, talking about midterms and panty-raids while my socks and undies tumble dry. I wish that were the case. It's not. I'm a bum who got tired of being a nobody in my hometown so I moved to California to be a nobody in San Diego. As far as that respect, my experiment is a total success. Yeah me! I really have nothing to say. The sky was pretty today, like a white quilt, gently stained and laid over the earth for a quiet rest. It made me more lathargic than I already was at work today. I liked sitting outside and watching people walk from their cars to different edifices of commerce. The way the wind would play with their hair or pony-tails would sway and jump with infectious joviality. Yes, I'm talking about the women. Men are seldom graceful when moving. But women, on the other hand, have such a bounce and pleasant fever to their steps more often than not, creating a mesmerizing rising and settling of their bodies that is hard not to watch. Maybe it's sexual frustration, maybe it's an aesthetic awakening, maybe it's just plain romanticism; either way, it makes the world nicer to look at for me if I feel this way, so I'm okay with it. The other day, I was angry when I got off work. It was Saturday and the day had gone surprisingly smoothly, and then my last customer that I helped turned out to be an elitist bitch and ruined my mood. I left there as a fuzzy ball of centered hatred. I got on a trolley and went to Old Town. Once there, I saw a girl in pajama pants with shoulder-length brown hair and a slightly benign look to her face. At this, I calmed. I got on the bus with a mild euphoria, which was dashed when an older woman with a sensible haircut boarded and made a scene. She pointed to a transient man, who was fishing money out of his pocket to pay for his bus fare so that he could recycle his found items, and said "Ewwwww!" Loudly. She said it in an offended tone as to imply that the bus driver was responsible for allowing her to endure such a grotesque sight as... another human being. She said it in a tone that implied that the man before her with the dissheveled appearance and mild odor had no feelings nor the ability to comprehend what her actions meant. She said it as if her comfort was the only important thing in the entire world... "BURN IN HELL, YOU FUCKING CUNT!!!! YOU ARE NO BETTER THAN ANYONE ELSE, BUT AS LONG AS SELFISHNESS IS THE STYLE, A THOUSAND CURSES ON YOU FOR RE-INFLAMING MY FOUL MOOD!!! I HOPE YOU DIE SOON!" Needless to say, I was slightly miffed about that little exchange, and I carried that negative energy to the theater before the last performance of "Hollis". It passed quickly once I arrived, as I was able to vent my frustrations on people who understand my infuriation pertaining those events. Then we laughed and talked and put on a great show. We came back to my house and drank and laughed and talked and just had fun. The next day, I was no longer an actor or a star or a naive detective from the 40's. I had returned to being a regular guy with a regular job and only $4.07 in the bank. Where is that sensibly-groomed woman now to crook her finger at me? Maybe I could use the humility. 8:25 p.m. - 2004-05-25 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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