I just wanted to sleep in someone else's bed and pretend that I knew them well enough to deserve it.
In the morning I woke up next to my unfolded clean clothes, in the sleeping bag that's come to represent my transience, my hang over a reminder of my desperation.
8.30.2009
8.25.2009
Drinks
2 pots of coffee. 3 kettles of tea. 4 bottles of beer. 5 glasses of wine.
1 pipe. 2 rolled. 3 cigars. 4 cigarettes.
Drowned in the sounds of the city.
The stars, if the stars were metal.
Self-described ladders.
Crawl under the darkness and find warmth.
Disappear between the lines.
1 pipe. 2 rolled. 3 cigars. 4 cigarettes.
Drowned in the sounds of the city.
The stars, if the stars were metal.
Self-described ladders.
Crawl under the darkness and find warmth.
Disappear between the lines.
8.05.2009
Miles
I was at the park in the morning, between classes. It was nice out, soft pillowy clouds in the blue skies I love. There were a lot of free benches, I decided for a clean one, partially in the sun, on the footpath, right across from another. It was near the pond, but not near enough so that the birds would bug me.
Before, I had just been near the central bus station, near chinatown. One of my courses required a 35mm SLR so the (digital) camera clerk decided my best bet was the pawn shops, or money lent stores, as they're called here. My journey was unfruitful, aside from a stop at McDonalds. At one of the places, not yet opened, I looked in the window wondering if it was worth it to wait until it opened. There was a sketchy guy hanging right at the door looking quite on edge. I peered around him to see that the store opened at 9:30am. He looked at me, asked if I have ID. "No?" "Hey, want to buy this?" he asksed as he flashes a gold necklace. "Nah." "Hey, what time is it?" "9:30, should be opened." "You want to looking to sell?" Oh, no, just searching for something. "Want me to bash your head in?" "Oh, uhh, haha, no no, that's okay." "Ha, he knows I'm just joking." There's another man there waiting too, I had assumed they didn't know each other, but they must to talk to each other. I decided that was my cue to go, I smiled and laughed at his chatter that fades in the distance I made.
My book had to be returned tomorrow. I needed to get a few chapters in. It's called Closer, about a boy named George. You don't want to know more than that. So I read.
At a certain point, I couldn't take it anymore. I needed to think about what had just happened in the book. Looking up there was a man, in a suit, on a bench that had been second choice to sit at. He looked older than he probably is, late thirties perhaps. He wasn't looking at much, perhaps the reeds, the city, the cars going past in the distance. It's rare to see suits pondering life like he seemed to be, thinking about his troubles, clearing his mind, not sipping any lattes or carrying a brief case.
Mentally, I shrugged. These early morning classes are lovely, but after I am always tired. Leaning my bag against me, keeping my page, folding my arms, I nodded to the left a bit and fell into a half-sleep. Images danced before my eyes, semi-formed dreams, instantly forgettable.
I awoke with a start. Someone was sitting on the bench on the other side of me. He looked homeless or close to being so, with a scruffy face and dirty clothes. He gave a subtle, curious look. If it wasn't still before noon, I might have felt threatened. I went back to my nap, hoping to remember this time what the dancing lights in my mind were trying to show me.
Okay, I thought, can't stay here forever. I read a few more pages, to get to an easier number to remember (90). The man said something and I glanced up. He wasn't looking at me, so perhaps he was mumbling to himself. Homeless people do that. The suit is still there, on his bench. I look at my watch, it's been over half an hour. He's over the shoulder of the homeless guy and I start to feel awkward watching the suit. Luckily, though, the suit stood up lazily, and strolled his way along the path to the small foot bridge, walking along the pond. At a point he went out of view, taking longer than I thought he should. Maybe he stopped to look at something, but I couldn't say.
With the homeless man still there, I felt I had exhausted my time there, a change of scenery would be nice, somewhere closer to my class. I stood up to leave and the man said to me rather loud and brusquely, "Oi mate, what time is it?"
Let me first say, I have this thing when people ask me for the time. I've been wearing an analog watch for many years. And this is a surefire way to be asked for the time, and it seems, especially in foreign places. I've been asked in New York City, Germany, and Singapore. However, whenever I'm asked, I'm always caught off guard when I'm asked about something I forget about until I look at it. So it always takes me awhile to register what they're asking for, and another few seconds to read the time. It's an odd exchange, and I wonder if they think I'm aloof, strange, or slow.
So it takes me awhile to answer. 11:40am. I didn't have class for another 2 hours, but I'll find something. I always do.
Before, I had just been near the central bus station, near chinatown. One of my courses required a 35mm SLR so the (digital) camera clerk decided my best bet was the pawn shops, or money lent stores, as they're called here. My journey was unfruitful, aside from a stop at McDonalds. At one of the places, not yet opened, I looked in the window wondering if it was worth it to wait until it opened. There was a sketchy guy hanging right at the door looking quite on edge. I peered around him to see that the store opened at 9:30am. He looked at me, asked if I have ID. "No?" "Hey, want to buy this?" he asksed as he flashes a gold necklace. "Nah." "Hey, what time is it?" "9:30, should be opened." "You want to looking to sell?" Oh, no, just searching for something. "Want me to bash your head in?" "Oh, uhh, haha, no no, that's okay." "Ha, he knows I'm just joking." There's another man there waiting too, I had assumed they didn't know each other, but they must to talk to each other. I decided that was my cue to go, I smiled and laughed at his chatter that fades in the distance I made.
My book had to be returned tomorrow. I needed to get a few chapters in. It's called Closer, about a boy named George. You don't want to know more than that. So I read.
At a certain point, I couldn't take it anymore. I needed to think about what had just happened in the book. Looking up there was a man, in a suit, on a bench that had been second choice to sit at. He looked older than he probably is, late thirties perhaps. He wasn't looking at much, perhaps the reeds, the city, the cars going past in the distance. It's rare to see suits pondering life like he seemed to be, thinking about his troubles, clearing his mind, not sipping any lattes or carrying a brief case.
Mentally, I shrugged. These early morning classes are lovely, but after I am always tired. Leaning my bag against me, keeping my page, folding my arms, I nodded to the left a bit and fell into a half-sleep. Images danced before my eyes, semi-formed dreams, instantly forgettable.
I awoke with a start. Someone was sitting on the bench on the other side of me. He looked homeless or close to being so, with a scruffy face and dirty clothes. He gave a subtle, curious look. If it wasn't still before noon, I might have felt threatened. I went back to my nap, hoping to remember this time what the dancing lights in my mind were trying to show me.
Okay, I thought, can't stay here forever. I read a few more pages, to get to an easier number to remember (90). The man said something and I glanced up. He wasn't looking at me, so perhaps he was mumbling to himself. Homeless people do that. The suit is still there, on his bench. I look at my watch, it's been over half an hour. He's over the shoulder of the homeless guy and I start to feel awkward watching the suit. Luckily, though, the suit stood up lazily, and strolled his way along the path to the small foot bridge, walking along the pond. At a point he went out of view, taking longer than I thought he should. Maybe he stopped to look at something, but I couldn't say.
With the homeless man still there, I felt I had exhausted my time there, a change of scenery would be nice, somewhere closer to my class. I stood up to leave and the man said to me rather loud and brusquely, "Oi mate, what time is it?"
Let me first say, I have this thing when people ask me for the time. I've been wearing an analog watch for many years. And this is a surefire way to be asked for the time, and it seems, especially in foreign places. I've been asked in New York City, Germany, and Singapore. However, whenever I'm asked, I'm always caught off guard when I'm asked about something I forget about until I look at it. So it always takes me awhile to register what they're asking for, and another few seconds to read the time. It's an odd exchange, and I wonder if they think I'm aloof, strange, or slow.
So it takes me awhile to answer. 11:40am. I didn't have class for another 2 hours, but I'll find something. I always do.
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