Writings from the Road III: Even as the Preps Continue, so do the Perps
March 25: A shifty-eyed young swain occupied the seat next to me on the bus coming to work and asked if I'd like to make two thousand dollars modeling for Penthouse. Should have said yes, just to relish the disappointment on his face at the great unveiling. Later he talked to a girl who responded with even less verve. Finally I saw him insinuate himself into the place next to a really pretty black girl, toward whom (by reflection of vibes) he soon became somewhat more animated. Eventually he followed her off at her stop. We'll have to keep my eye peeled for that photo line-up (but I'd better not keep my breath held).
March 28: The bus resonated with energy Friday night, alotNo such word; two words, 'a lot' of it malevolent. Began with those who had heard Ford speak. Talked for awhile to a young man reporter with one glass eye who said Ford had exhorted the crowd to "buy cars", to "spur the economy". Then a man sat down in the seat beside himAlthough it is not incorrect to use the pronoun 'him' here, it would be better to use instead the noun phrase 'the reporter' because the penultimate word, another pronoun, 'his', then refers to whose briefcase with more certainty (on the part of readers who may not entirely trust the writer) but, miscalculating, half-sat on his briefcase. The reporter asked him why he did that, why hadn't he been more careful. The man apologized but added that it shouldn't have been taking up so much room. Voices modulated, they both kept up. The reporter asked the man if he'd been drinking. The man, offended, denied any such thing and actually removed his glassesFortunately, the reporter did not remove his glass eye—at that moment , their conveyance moving as it was, they'd have had trouble stepping outside. A few more verbal feints and parries, and the reporter moved to the back of the bus.
A good-looking gay sitting behind me started talking to me about how he'd lost 100 pounds. A black guy asked if he could sit beside me, though there were other seats available. Immediately he commenced his moves, which started unusually blatantly but soon took on a decidedly ominous tone. I started to wonder if he might be insane.An understatement. The Brits are very good at dry understatement. He preached and whispered and threatened, me and the others living in the Hollywood Hills, who would "die and go to hell and burn till your white asses are black". He, and he alone, had the secret to the entire universe, along with seven of the most precious jewels in the kingdom of man buried in the flesh of his hands (and looking suspiciously to me like common moles). And the Cross of God was on his forehead.
He got off before my stop. Good thing, as I'd not wanted to ride on to the end of the line. or at least until the stop after his.
I'll be moving entirely out of David's. Last night I broke March's resolve with two drinks at Simply Blue's, and also tried to talk the impasse out to David, but failed for lack of material. No complaints, just nothing. "Inhuman" the familiar, expected term, but he never invoked it.
I'll also be dropping out of school.
March 29: This morn sent a letter to M. Porter Ewing (mah history teacher …) apologizing but saying that other things are taking precedence o'er educational pursuits at the moment. Mentioned an interesting Texas law regarding punishment for those who catch their red-handed cheating spouses'cheating spouses red-handed' (or perhaps, depending on matrimonial arrangements, 'red-faced)' and knock them off that I'd meant to tell him before (manslaughter for a man; murder for a woman), in line with his interest in equality (more apparent than real though it may be), and finally said in a postscript that I'd be missing his lectures, which I find fascinating. Put the Whitley address on the envelope lest he come to goad me from my sloth, as drama is a good part of his affect.
