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Thursday, May 26, 2005

sunday, bloody sunday

Sunday night, ten o'clock. The crowd on the crazy-8 have all the life of a somnabulist convention. Little old asian ladies going from here to there, skid kids comming back from paning-for-tourists on Robson, the hotties from some ESL practice with each other, and me.

Me, i'm just trying to get home. I don't remember how long it's been since I left the front door of my place, but time seems to be moving like rainy saturday afternoon (and nothing on t.v.). I'm trying to stay small, they can't see me when i'm scrunched up in my jacket. I've got my head pulled in like a turtle and i'm staring at a crushed smoke pack between the feet of the twinky across from me. She has on these white, and pink, and blue, and sparkly retro high-tops and she's got this writing all over the tops. I know it's her's cause it looks like she does: all tight with the t's crossed and the i's with perfectly centered dots. Anal people scare me, I know they're judging me, they think i'm dirty.

I see the skid kids start to play fight with each other. One of them poked the other with a pencil he was writing with and the other (she/he I can't tell, the hair is covering his/her face) and he/she punches him back. They're laughing now and this is when you have to be the most careful. They're trying to get people to notice them but not look at them. When people laugh their endorphins are active and they start to become more agressive. Especially kids like this, they can go mean just like that. I've seen it happen before and i'm careful now. Stay away from kids, pets, police, anyone who's laughing too loud, drunk guys, drunk girls, those old asian harpies and transit cops. There's more but that's the basic list. You have to be carefull out here, it's not safe if you leave your home. Hell, it's not safe to stay home either.

I'm hungry. I ate this afternoon when I swiped a sandwitch off this suit talking on his fucking-cell-phone. He was on the patio of that pita place across from the library. I was smooth, he never even glanced in my direction, I was in full stealth mode and just glided past his table and his sandwitch just seemed to float into my arms. I was half way through it before I realised it was some kinda pig meat. I kept eating cause you never, ever waste food. You can waste water (cause it's free), and you can waste time (cause there's too much of that), but you can never waste food, never. "You eat what you get, or you get nothing". That was the rule at home. That and "you eat when we eat, if your not here, too damn bad".

I spend most of my time hiding in the corners of the library.

There's a young black man sitting (actually sprawling) near the other end of the bus. His eyes are closed and his head is doing a slow bop to the music he hear's in his huge headphones. He's dressed like a construction worker with big tan boots, heavy jeans that bag out over his belt and hold his long taunt legs in straight lines and right angles. He wears a parka that looks like brown bubble wrap, all bulgy and poofy. He's like a young lion siting in the sun. The confident master of his fate. The rule with these ones is if they're wearing headphones they're trying to keep you out so your safe. If they can hear you, they will notice you, and that can get bad.

I'm trying not to look at the young girl sitting across from me. She's on her fucking-cell-phone talking too loudly. Is she trying to make everybody notice her. "Look at me, look at me. I have a cell phone." I wish the bitch would shut up. I didn't mean that, about calling her a bitch. These things just seem to pop up from somewhere sometimes. I'll be walking on the sidewalk and a bus will pass by and Bam i'll have a full mental picture of myself pushing some woman in front, or under the tires and running away. I wouldn't do that but these images keep coming. Sometimes it's another voice under my internal monologue that says things and tries to insert words into my thoughts. It's hard when this happens because I get confused about which words are mine and which are from that hidden shadow place.

I just saw the girls white panties. I wasn't looking up her skirt but i was just letting my eyes roam across things when she bent over to pick up the smoke pack. Her legs parted for a brief moment. It was like a magnet pulled my eyes to the flash of white. Pure white, soft cotton, light pink threading on the edges, the smoth rounding of her mons veneris. I pull my eyes away and see she's looking right into my eyes. She saw me look at her private place. My face starts to burn and i feel my skin start to prickle with heat. There's something crawling up my spine that tickles my intestines on it's way towards my heart. It wraps itself around my lungs and squeezes. It starts licking my heart and it begins to hurt. I close my eyes and visualise white light burning this phantom away. When it's gone I'm almost bent over with my eyes clenched tight, my stomach is like a wet boulder, my shoulders are clenched and my hands are white. But i'm ok now. I half open my eyes and look up.

The girl is gone, the young black man is gone. We are way past my stop and i'm alone at the back of the bus. I don't recognise anyone on the bus. But the bus never stoped! I was right here, I would have noticed if the bus had stoped. I would have got off. I'm going to get off at the next stop and walk back. The bus driver is looking at me in his mirror. I can see him looking at my eyes.

I pull the bell.

---------------------
I'd like to work on this from each of the riders point of view. Just from the time they get on the bus untill they leave. This is more a challenge to create an internal monologue from several different people and show how each has their own perceptions of the people and events around them.
If anyone would like to use these characters feel free. If you would like to creat a story about before or after the trip, that's ok as well.
PhilG

10 Comments:

  • Just sayin', but from this amateur's point of view, I found it easy to get inside that character's head. A real visual post with plenty of descriptors. Nice and awkward, it created some good tension.

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  • thanks, I was trying to be "normal" from inside an individual with some seriously screwed head-space. I'm gonna incorporate this as a running deux-et-machinea in some of the stuff I want to do. I really like trying to do a simple scene from multiple dissimilar pov's. I find it helps break out of your characters "voice" and forces you to work on different narrative techniques.

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