3.10.03. 3.10pm.
steady as she goes.
the river is swollen today, and very very cold. (i assume. the air is cold, so, i think, the river is probably even colder. i'm not jumping in to find out. but you feel free...)
yesterday i walked all the way to the bank, only to find that the ATMs were out of deposit envelopes. "is that a radio you're listening to?" asked the woman at the other ATM - thirty-something, indian, white cardigan. "it's a CD player," said i, brandishing it as i turned it off. "oh," said she, "i listen to my headset all the time now, because if i don't i just start talking to people all the time. it's nice to listen to music, to have your own thing going, you know, when you walk down the street. it's sort of like having your own life, which is good when things are so scary, like all this stuff in iraq. i mean, some people are saying 'fuck bush' - excuse me i don't want to offend you, but they are - but it's not really his fault, i mean he's just a figurehead for a larger goverment structure, he doesn't really have any power. or this fire at the great white concert, i mean that's awful, and it's not like i listened to them, but you know i listened to them when i was younger and i didn't hate them. and the media is trying to blame the owners of the club, but really the bottom line is that the band shouldn't have been doing that, it's not necessarily their fault, but they shouldn't have been doing that. it's like the kids i used to work with at the shelter and they were all these like monsters, like these little tough guys, like little eminems, you know, lots of little eminems. i have a friend who listens to eminem, and she's like 'aw yeah, eminem,' but i don't really listen to him. anyway, he's all like 'my mother's a bitch, put her in the back yard,' and i really think my kids it's their parents, it's where they come from. because they're not stupid, you know, they're really smart, and who'd have thought that? i mean it's like you see hookers in movies, and the media makes it look like that's a great life, like that's the only way to escape this whole thing, and i'm dressed like this not because i look up to them or anything but because i'm trying to make a point. see, i'm a visual artist, but i don't have gallery shows, partly because i'm way to nervous to ever show my art, but also because that would take away time from my life, which is the life i live to create my art, and i really feel that performance art is just the life you life. i just saw 'moulin rouge,' and i really identify with toulouse-latrec, because my husband, who i love, he left me, but that's okay, anyway, you have to live that sort of art. and you see this guy who just walked out of here? look at him, he's probably supposed to be one of these laid-back guys, but he's rushing in and out yelling on his cell phone. i don't know, maybe i'm being judgemental. but judging is everything, you judge everything you see. like, i don't know about you, i get tested once a month, not that i'm a slut or anything, i'm not like some man-hungry crazy lady trying to pick you up, i just like to talk, but my friend who's forty never uses protection, and i say, 'well, good luck.' anyway, i should go, i need to clean my house, that's what all this is about. because i get so messy, i make pottery? and you know it's really great but it gets all over, and it's hard enough to clean because that's not the kind of person i am. but hey, good luck to you, and keep doing all that."
this is not word-for-word accurate. clearly. she stayed on any given subject for up to thirty or forty seconds. and i did offer the occasional comment. but she talked right up until she walked out the door, and even past, as she slowly shut the door behind her, still talking to me, until the door was open just wide enough for her face, and then she walked to the parking lot and pulled away in a conservative white honda four-door.
"should i question her sanity?
everyone else sits quietly..."
back in providence, and things to do...