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Stumpage Reports
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Tuesday, April 08, 2003 :::
My Sweetness: or, We All Smelled Like Wet Dogs
Today I rode the bus home from campus. Lately, with the nice weather, I've been walking home. Its only a mile, god knows I need the exercise, and I can usually stop by and say hello to a friend of mine that works at the comic book store.
The weather was cold and rainy today and the bus ride was a nightmare. The bus was packed and we all smelt like wet dogs. First off, there was weird David Byrne-like Staring Guy that was saying "Hi, how's it going?" to everyone and most people said "hello" back. I was thinking, "Damn, this guy knows everybody" and then he said hi to me and I realized what was going on. Next I was in the midst of a triangle of ladies who were not waiting to exhale. I could barely understand the conversation except for the part where one lady kept referring to her boyfriend as "my sweetness." Scared Little Anne Frank Lookin' Girl sat next to me at one point. She lives next door, never speaks to me and scuttles around like a frightened mouse, so I certainly didn't expect her to speak to me on the bus.
Once I got home I had to drive downtown to the archives to go to class at 6 PM. It was still raining and the traffic sucked. So I got the worst of semi-public transportation and driving in rush hour traffic in one day. As I began to slide into the bitter morass of morbid self-pity, I caught sight of Edward aka "Ghost Story" walking in the rain and lugging a couple shopping bags. This guy has been a library regular for 12+ years and a common denizen of Hillsborough Street. That whole time he has been one disability check and one dosage of medication away from being homeless. I sat in my warm car, Roxy Music blaring on the CD player, and realized I got it pretty damn good.
Quote of the Day:
"A grave and dark-clad company," quoth Goodman Brown.
In truth they were such. Among them, quivering to and fro between gloom and splendor appeared faces that would be seen next day at the council board of the province, and others which, Sabbath after Sabbath, looked devoutly heavenward, and benignantly over the crowded pews, from the holiest pulpits in the land.
--- Nathaniel Hawthorne, Young Goodman Brown, 1835.
::: posted by tom at 10:33 PM
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