Sunday, May 16, 2004

Nobless Oblige and Turtle Eggs

I have quite a large Norfolk pine in my apartment. And you probably don’t. And if you do, we’ll form a club.

Spent most of the day getting happy and shouted. Had a déliceux brunchamatation that had been vastly improved by the happy and shouted. I seem to always get happy and shouted with this particular group. Well, what hed heppid was all the shamps. That was de wunzes. Came home crashed slept for 4 hours, four long luxurious hours.

T’wasn’t my fault; I had to wake up early to do laundry today. I become increasingly tempted to go and dump my things at the corner where the people will wash it all, $1 for 10 pounds of wash or whatever, fold it, clean it, and be done with it. Hickeyhackeyhookey pointed out that shoving her laundry there made her uncomfortable. Her problem is that the people employed in such establishments make her feel like the plantation owning mint-sauce eater dropping off a load of cotton in some bad movie from the 40s. Fortunately for me I won’t have to have those feelings; I deliberately remove unwanted hair and rarely wear burlap. (There was that one Nichole Fahri incident which we will all endeavour to forget.) Bearing the burden of nobless oblige, bearing the burden…

In class I noticed that someone wrote “Trinidad and Tobago is the most cosmopolitan city in the world.” I believe this to be true, for someone who has been to Trinidad and Tobago. However, if the person has been elsewhere besides Trinidad and Tobago, I believe he or she would have to disagree. That is like saying that Mumbai is the coldest city in the world, if you happen to be visiting from the sun. Or black is white, unless you see white.

Turtle egg.

Anyway, Q called in re: a friend of ours from college who is all angry and quiet (naturally the opposite of Happy and Shouted, but you’re not dumb, you can understand subtlety…) in re: relationship madness. Apparently there’s some trauma involving infidelity. Infidelity seems such a funny thing these days; everyone seems dedicated to doing it, and even more people seem dedicated to ignoring it, sanctioning it, or rationalizing it away. (D used to have a b/f who also like men; she said it’d be OK for him to go have a fling every once in a while, but only with other men. I have still never understood the logic behind that.) I say the friend stick it out (or in, whatever) as long as it takes. Good thing china patterns haven’t been chosen yet.

The trains are all being redone so that the chairs are against the walls. Great. Now there’s more chance for some nasty ass crotch to be thrown into my face while sitting down riding the train. And while I enjoy searching for American Bush royalty and crowned heads as much as the next, it’s just not the thing I look forward to on my commute. It’s a lose lose situation; either it be all nasty (99% of the time), or make my WOA late for work for getting sidetracked. But no no, we’re going European and getting an efficient subway. Yeah right. Dirty hippies...the whole thing should have been bulldozed by now and rebuilt. There is no reason for the brown line to curve the way that it does. I’m sure someone’s cow or bush or shrubbery needed to be preserved, so instead of the track being a straight line like it ought to be, it’s a curvy “slow the train down to 15 mph” (as if it ever went that fast) mess. Curvy meandering streets are best left to suburban dead-end cul-de-sacs, not major transportation arterials.

Another train story; on my way to score my Red Badge of Courage, listening to Deeper and Deeper (Shep 12” remix), I think I was being flirted with. Naturally I was stunning that day, as usual, but it was a new kind of flirting—the mirroring/mimicking sort of flirting, where the interested party will mimic my movements. I crossed my ankle over my knee; replicated. I moved my bag; replicated. I looked left; replicated. Had I been more aware and not so obsessively concerned with said Badge, I would have picked my nose.

What does one do with flirters on trains?
HEY BABY WHERE YOU GOING?
“Um, VD clinic?”

(~sigh~)



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