baggage's Diaryland
Diary
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Point me South to the Saint's City
The man sitting across from me likes to lick his fingers before flipping a page. He does this, like, all the time. He did it right now just as I'm typing this! Yet again! The finger goes up, the tongue comes out-and slurp! God-he's doing it so much I can't even keep up!
My mom used to do the same thing and I never understood why. Does the spit on the fingertip give you more traction? Is the expelling of bodily fluids necessary to ensure that the page flips properly?
I'm a closet voyeur. I enjoy watching people-the mannerisms, facial expressions, the way a skirt unfolds when someone runs for the bus. It's very exotic to me-all the endless variations we display when we do basic tasks like walking, laughing, talking and, yes, flipping through a pile of papers.
People fascinate me.
It's difficult to not draw conclusions from what I see. To not judge. To simply observe. The mind seems intent on classifying everything we experience. This experience goes here, that goes there-this person is nervous, she's beautiful, he's funny, she's insecure...it's automatic. Innate--this need for us to start classifying others from the second we experience them.
Not that this is necessarily a bad thing.
Maybe it's good for for us to start forming an idea of what others are like almost immediately.
You know. Like, for self-preservation or something similar.
Of course, this would be the perfect moment for a transitionary phrase. An eloquent statement that would lead this little journal entry into a discussion on racism.
But, I shall pass.
You see, I start writing and I go where I go.
I had no idea I was gonna get all deep and pseudo-intellectual on yo ass.
Discussing racism is a difficult. Specifically if you're bored with the obvious.
Let me show you.
I'm against racism.
Big deal, right?
Hell. That's easy. Of course I'm against racism. What are you? Some kind of bigot?? (Ha. Ha. Sorry-that's sorta kinda a pun.)
What I meant to say is that (ahem): It is difficult to rationally discuss human nature and racism and human behavior without being high or drunk.
And, people? I'm sad and disappointed to say I'm currently neither. ----- I have this weird thing where I would want to go see somebody.
You know, like a friend I hadn't seen in a little while.
I would call 'em up and arrange some sort of meeting or lunch or dinner and then look forward to when we'd finally be able to hook up and talk.
And then, there they are. In front of me. Boring as hell. And annoying. And I wonder, "why did I even wanna have this conversation?"
This is occurring with alarming frequency and, quite honestly, I would very much appreciate it if somebody could please tell me what the fuck is fucking with my head. ----- Believe it or not, I'm happy. ----- I've been invited somewhere to teach. Ha! imagine that. Me! Teaching! Oh the sick sense of humor this world drips upon our backs is thick, thick THICK with irony, my friends. ----- Why am I so disconnected? Unable to focus my words into one cohesive thought that doesn't use a dotted line in place of a decent transition? Maybe, I should just post this and sleep it off. It's only Wednesday you know.
9:47 p.m. - 2005-11-02
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