I am too lazy to write this again in journal form: fitz:
okay i was going to save this story for an lj entry but i don't foresee me making one in the near future so i should tell you now before i forgetsam:
yesterday after i went to centrelink i stopped at the newmarket shops to get a drink. outside the newsagents this like, middle aged guy who was african or west indian or something stopped me and asked me where the nearest Westpac bank was.
"I don't know," I said. "I'm not from around here."
then he went into newsagent to ask and the newsagents didn't know, and i bought a drink and when i came out it seemed like he was waiting for me
"You're not from around here?" he said. "Where are you from???"
"North Melbourne," I said. "A couple of suburbs away."
"Ahh! Is there a Westpac there???"
"Maybe... maybe on Errol St, I don't know, sorry..."
"Where do you live in North Melbourne?"
"Near the high rises?"
"No... in the industrial section..."
"My family are all living in North Melbourne," he said. "But I'm staying around here."
"That's nice," I said politely. I was trying to leave. Why am I polite to people.
"What are you doing now?" he asked.
"Meeting a friend for coffee," i said.
at this point i had like, started walking out of the shopping centre
and he was following me
"No," I said. "In the city."
"Ohhh," he said. "Do you want me to take you??"
"I can take you," he said. "In my car."
"No thank you," I said. "I'd better go."
and then i like, walked away and refused to look back in case he was still following mesam:
. . .fitz:
WHY DO THESE PEOPLE ALWAYS CHOOSE MEsam:
update about this.fitz:
dying. in retrospect there's not a lot to say about it, really, except that he's creepy and every time i leave the house i am approached by total weirdos
The other day I was on the way home from a party and a wasted forty year old woman offered me E. I was on the tram and accidentally met her eyes so she came and sat across from me. She had short hair and gold jewellery and gross crayola coloured make up. She told me drunkenly that she was going to The Peel
, this ~classy~ gay bar in Collingwood or something. "I have..." she said, and started scrabbling through her bag. "Oh my god I can't find it." Here she looked up at me and murmured, as if revealing a deeply intimate secret, "E.
"Oh no," I replied awkwardly.
"NO NO NO I REMEMBER WHERE IT IS," she said suddenly, and took this blue pill that looked more like Demazin than E out of the coin purse in her wallet. "Do you want some?" she asked.
"No thank you," I said.
She seemed really confused by my polite refusal. "Are you sure?" she kept asking over and over.
Finally I just said, "I can't, I've been drinking."
"Oh," she said. "SO HAVE I I'VE BEEN ON THE PISS ALL NIGHT."
"It's cool," I said. "I'm tired."
"Oh," she said. Then we both went quiet and she stared at me while I fiddled with my earring. "Sorry," she said after long, awkward moments, and got up and sat across the aisle. THAT LAST APOLOGY WAS WHAT MADE THE ENCOUNTER SERIOUSLY AWKWARD INSTEAD OF JUST A LITTLE UNCOMFORTABLE, IF YOU'RE GOING TO BE A DRUNKEN MORON AT LEAST BE DRUNK ENOUGH THAT YOU DON'T KNOW YOU'VE JUST HUMILIATED YOURSELF.
Then the second I got off the tram this guy grabbed my shoulders and yelled, "YOU'RE GORGEOUS SWEETHEART WHERE ARE YOU GOING??" and then walked off immediately.
These things happen to me all the time, seriously. And I wonder why the world terrifies me. I am sure I have recounted this story in my lj before but I just told it for Sam so I will leave it here as it is inkeeping with my theme: sam:
what's that story
that time when
the homeless woman said she wish you'd get cancer or somethingfitz:
i met her one afternoon while i was studying in the food court
and she told me she desperately needed money to get a ticket to geelong or something to go to the hospital
and she was near tears
so i gave her all my money which was like, seven dollars
and she gave me some dishwashing detergent.
and then i was there again the next week
and she came up to me again
and asked to borrow money again
and i was like, "sorry, no. i gave you money last week."
and she was like, "i need money, i have cancer." she started getting really upset and her hands were shaking. "i hope one day you have cancer so you know what it is like."sam:
and then angrily walked away.sam:
and then because i was there all the time
i would see her there constantly.sam:
i still do sometimes.
I just. I try to be polite to everyone I really do and yet no-one normal ever speaks to me, it is always weird guys who want me to get in their cars or skeletal old women who want me to have cancer. One day someone normal will approach me and I'll be rude to them thinking they're going to try and abduct me, and then the ghost of christmas past will reveal to me that that person was supposed to be my soul mate.