I saw a girl today that was pretty. But she had a face that looked like it was born to cry. As in, if she was bawling her eyes out, she may have been the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. And I’m not really a misogynist or anything, and it’s not like I enjoy people’s sadness… especially not women. This felt strange. So I obsessed about it for a long time. And then I realised that there are a number of faces I’ve seen recently that would look prettier if they were crying. Why?
Also. I had a conversation with a guy who might be a murderer. He said to call him something I don’t want to reveal, for anonimity’s sake, but it was very close to Bobby Johns. He’s a coworker, and this was my first encounter with him. I asked why everyone in the produce department thinks he can beat up Bruce Lee. He told a story that was very VERY similar to The Karate Kid. And then the military stuff. He kept talking about his military training, for a long time. His long story went a lot like this:
“My drill seargent did 3 tours in Vietnam, this was back 1979 I joined the Army, so all the drill instructors had been in the war. My drill seargent had done 3 tours, was captured on two of them, and escaped both times. He looked like the picture of John Rambo. Like someone took a fucking weed whacker to his chest and shit. This was a bad-ass motherfucker. [Insert an in-story story about how the Seargent beat him up one time, very badly.] So all these guys were training us to kill. You know? It wasn’t like karate and tae-kwon-do, these dudes was out to kill. Some real stuff. We weren’t competing to get points, or to just, like, beat someone up. If we were going to fight a guy, we were fighting for life. There was no broken bones or nothing, it was all about putting the other guy in a body bag. You know?”
There was more said, but mostly I was stuck on how many times he mentioned the killing part. I dared not ask him, “Hey, so did you ever have to actually kill a guy?” Because I thought he may have gone all Colonel Kurtz on me and put my fucking head on the end of a bamboo chute or something. I will ask him though, eventually. Next time we smoke a cigarette together, it’s on. Oh, it’s ON!
Finally. I took a bus home today. A massively fat young lady got on with her two kids. As she waddled all the way to the back, she was saying, “Mind ya feet. Mind ya feet, y’all. Look out.” No please, no thank you, no excuse me. Then, she talked VERY loudly to her mother on a cell phone about her court date tomorrow. She said, among other things, such gems as: “No, I don’t care who watches them,” in reference to her tiny tots. And then, “Just so you know, if I don’t come home, it means I got locked up. But fuck it.” And then, “Just keep this to yourself. I don’t want my business all over the place. It’s MY business, not everyone else’s.” On a very crowded bus, VERY loudly. Fucking retard. And then, just in case we didn’t loathe her enough by then, she changed her baby boy’s shitty diaper and made all of us nearly vomit all over one another. She changed a fucking diaper on the bus. A moving bus. This means she was sitting there, wiping baby-shit off of a baby’s asshole, within 15 feet of at least 20 other human beings. This also means she was within 4 feet of at least 7 people. And yes, I was lucky enough to be in her inner circle for this one). What the fuck is going on with the world, man? Seriously.
Days like today, I miss being a pothead. And yeah, I can’t wait until Portland time. Because people in Portland aren’t that fucking agressively stupid and inconsiderate.