Sunday, 22 November 2009

train stations always bring up such bloggable characters.

so fucking pissed off.
waiting for the train,
it's delayed,
again.

stamping my feet and scaring hoards of lazy college-goers sitting in clumps on the concrete.
screaming and screaming and, "this is what made lily scared of you before",
oh fucking hell.

trudie with her massive massive fluffy russian hat which gives her such remarkable head presence asking if it's something she's done.
no.
it isn't.
i wish i knew why i got in certain moods.
but i do not.
i do not know why sometimes i wake up and feel so ecstatic and then...
the next day i sit digging grooves in my hands with my fingernails as people's horrible voices make me flinch with anger and,
i wish
i had
a valid reason.
but i do not.

"i think i need to HIT something!!!!!!!!!!!!" trudie holds out her arm. no. i couldn't hit trudie. too. much. fucking. head presence. but i go and kick the wall hard and it really really hurts OW but i pretend it doesn't. "that made me feel better" and people are probably staring but who even cares when i feel this hot inside my head, a sauna in my brain i swear. ARGH.
"i don't know how to actually stop," i jiggle staring at trudies massive amazing hat.
i wish i could stop mentioning her hat
but really. it's such a big part of my life.

"i think you need a cigarette," says trudie, who smokes.
"yeah, i think i do!" says me, who doesn't.
i was of course
joking.

but this beautiful man with a slightly greasy face and a ponytail and a tiny beard and a traveller's shirt... that's how i will describe it, a traveller's shirt... came up to me with a cigarette (not a "rolly", which i have been told is significantly different and apparently better) between his knowledgeable fingers and he grins and says, "it's better than you damaging your feet."
and i tell him that his offer is so kind,
if not a little cancerous.
and trudie says,
"you should have taken it and given it to me."
although, she only likes the type you roll. the rollies.

the other day i heard a student call it "the smoking area"
instead of "smokers"
and i felt ridiculously pleased.

2 comments:

  1. I get it. I get this story now, my attention is no longer shared with the continual avoidance of camera sight-line... That wall-kick was felt in my soul, poor thing.

    The book is in a literature queue, immediately behind the remainder of its wittily-scribed, on-loan cousin. You'll get it back, scout's honour xxxxxxxxxxxxx

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