and i was getting wet

by the end of tonight's class we'd been shown all the basic moves of east coast swing. i walked through a complete fucking downpour to get there. something is amiss with the sidewalk on pine street, causing 3" of rain to gush across its surface; my jeans were sodden to the knees and my hair was dripping wet when i arrived. the abruptly vile weather brings out the good in people. "guess it's not summer any more!" a man shouted after me jovially as he dodged the deluge from an awning. "apparently!" i replied cheerily.
today i reminded myself to notice the minutae. it's why i live in a city, after all- i mustn't take it for granted. seattle, 29 september 09, consisted of:
-a maid standing on the window-side of the heavy curtains at the holiday inn on westlake, staring out.
-the goth couple on the bus playfully stacking their fists up the pole. "i win!" crowed the female when her hand reached the top.
-the man with the lazy eye and cameoflage pants.
-"you can totally have it" said the man at fremont coffee, smiling, when i asked if i could take their table as they were leaving. they left behind a soiled fork resting delicately on a clean napkin.
-the aroma of macaroni and cheese at the place where i am currently typing this.
-a man who admired my computer the last time i was here just came back. "they're totally out of those at northgate!" he said. i love this thing- the asus eee- and recommend them to anyone.
-the emergency exit on the bus pouring rainwater over a guy standing underneath, him laughing about it, and the female he was with standing on the seat to close it.
-the (transient?) man at the drugstore lecturing the cashier for not placing his items in the plastic lidded bucket he'd brought along for that purpose.
-the man in the car beside me prolongedly flipping off the bus driver with a meaty finger.
-rifling through a vintage copy of 'nostradamus' prophesies'- somehow they devised that a vague remark about sunshine fading was indicative of irish conflict.
-myself, cackling at the newest edition of 'heeb' at the university bookstore.
*
once the sky is dark, i feel rather lost. i have never 'gone home at night' to 'relax' and 'take a load off.' i stay out until i am tired, which is usually quite late. i hate being in my home at night, especially by myself- i just don't do it. i feel horribly antsy and clausterphobic. but i am reminded, once the weather is foul and the nights are longer, how inconvenient (and expensive) it is to be out. this habit tends to grate on people. i like being at their places- d and i watched 'donnie darko' last night and i was quite content- but not at mine- my lair feels cold and unfamiliar when it's dark outside. every place i've lived has been that way.
when i'm OUT, AT NIGHT, i tend to be rather voyeuristic. i look in lit windows and admire people's lives from afar. i watch people converse, prepare meals, watch television, wash dishes. i notice the matching kitchen accoutrements and framed pictures and their expressions- like the man i once saw sitting in a recliner in front of the tv, looking utterly miserable. perhaps that is it: people, when they don't know they're being noticed, rarely look happy- or even content. i do this at intersections also. everyone looks resigned and annoyed. then i catch myself and realize that i probably do also- if i'm not singing along to something.
that's fucking sad!
it justifies my outings, at least in my own mind. i don't want to miss anything, so i'll be in public spaces with my focus centered on a 5"x8" screen.
and it reminds me that i am an anomaly- most people go home in the evening, coccoon, decompress. it makes me feel rather weird and rudderless... and thankful of my freedom... and curious that i'm living in a rather pathetic state of denial. at night, when i work, animals will come in with an acute emergency and their fur will sometimes smell like whatever the owners were preparing for dinner. the thought of, say, a dog laying around the kitchen while the sauce simmers is such a foreign, folksy concept- i envy it terribly, even if i don't understand why.
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