Hey guys, I'm back. Had to slip out the back for a little bit. You know how it is.
So, I broke up with Rachel. I guess a continent's width of distance can do that to a relationship. It's a shame, but that's the way the world goes some days. Time to ramble on.
I recently started going to this club in Hollywood on Fridays, because they have this really cool donation-based entry fee before 11:11 pm. How very sustainable chic. Anyway, last time I went there was a couple Fridays ago. It was one of those nights that started the second I walked out my front door. I could feel it in the air. "Yooouuu will experience interrreeesting thiiiiings tonight," the breeze seemed to whisper, but then I realized that I was talking to myself again. I walked one block over from my house to the bus stop that would take me to where I was going, and I met this kindly 30-something gentleman. He must've really liked the look of me, 'cause he introduced himself and started talking to me.
"Look at you!" he exclaimed. "You going out tonight?"
"Yeah, this club up in Hollywood. Great scene. You?"
"Oh, no, I'm going home and going to sleep, gonna be boring." This was when I realized he was looking me up and down. "Wow, look at you, you are just something else." I began to understand that this was a gay thing.
"Thank you!" I laughed.
"I don't really like twinky boys, so you really do it for me." I decided that the appropriate response was to laugh harder and thank him for the compliment, then start talking about girls. My new friend didn't really seem to care that I'm straight, though, which was interesting; it gave me a new perspective on women. I've seen lots of men in my life who hit on women long after the woman in question has communicated that she isn't interested in every way possible short of telling the guy to get bent, and now I was on the receiving end of that (heh, receiving end). Anyway, I continued thanking him for the compliments and generally having a pleasant chat, and the bus arrived after he called me "yummy" a few more times. We both got on. I declined his gestured offer to take the seat next to him and stood instead. I started chatting with another guy who was talking to his friend about something. I gave him a fist bump to back him up on whatever point he was making. I don't remember it, but I do remember thinking it was a good point.
A few stops later, a dirty young woman boarded the bus, fist clenched at her side. I don't call her "dirty" because she was performing lewd sex acts or anything--boy would that be strange--I call her "dirty" because she had streaks of black soot caking her face, and her hair looked like she'd decided to try combing it with a hamburger patty for a week, just to see what'd happen. She looked to be about my age, her clothing was comparatively clean, but there was something off with her. The way she stormed down the aisle in the bus, shoulders hunched up around her ears, made me think that if I poured water on her, it'd sizzle. Then I noticed that she was muttering quietly to herself. She took the seat in front of me.
The constant muttering from her never really stopped. It was too quiet for me to hear what she was saying, even from just a few feet away, but it was clear to me that everything pissed her the fuck off. She did occasionally increase the volume of her monologue to hurl a point at someone, like the fistbumping guy from earlier, who crossed himself in her direction. I thought that a rather poor choice on his part.
"Girl, you need to find the lord's light, save your soul," he said. He looked scared. She laughed in a pointedly "evil" way and muttered some vaguely satanic things at him. It seemed pretty clear to me that before she had really started to lose her grip on reality, this girl got a kick out of scaring Christians. What we saw in that moment were the remnants of that particular social mask of hers.
During a crescendo in her quiet monologue, she raised up her clenched fist and opened it. Out tumbled 20-30 cigarette butts. She noticed the butts scattered on the seat and floor and set about collecting them again, but whatever she was saying kept distracting her from her task. It was sad. I found myself wondering when the last time was that she had had a normal conversation with another person. I looked at her. Really looked at her. After a minute or two, she noticed me. We made eye contact. I didn't judge her. I wasn't scared. I just looked at her. Observed her, I guess. It was important to me. I wanted her to know that she wasn't invisible.
Then the bus arrived at my stop. The young lady and I broke eye contact. She snapped up a few more cigarettes into her hand and shambled off the bus, followed by the whole circus of people I'd met in the past ten minutes. The gay guy and I chatted at the stop. He called me "a tall drink of somethin'" and, when I continued not giving him my number, he finally said bye and walked to the subway station. Finally, I was ready to enter the club. As if things hadn't already been interesting enough.
