Date: 12:48 am Fri Nov 21, 1997 Number : 211 of 213 From: Happyfish Base : --tab- music To : Lalala Refer #: None Subj: Re: oh yeah Replies: None Stat: Sent Origin : 20 Nov 97 23:55:15 O> november 20th show starts at 9pm cool, a chance to head out to surrey tonight. hi myk. bye myk. my bus is late. oh well. catch a skytrain. snoooore ah, gateway. station of champions. Hmm. This intersection has no street signs of any sort. Maybe this one is 108th. walk walk walk. Nope. walk walk walk. Well, I guess this one is. I hope this is also the right direction to be walking down it. what's a skytrain cop doing walking along the track? they usually stick to stations. oh well, the mysteries of transit are many and beautiful. There's a girl getting the crap kicked out of her by her boyfriend twenty feet away from me. Oh shit. panic briefly. look around for phone. hey, wait, there's a transit cop right there. Look up at skytrain cop. Why the hell isn't he doing anything? How the hell can he keep his back the other way? Can't he HEAR her? panic a bit more. "Excuse me sir! I think you should call the police!" the happy couple get in to a car, him yelling obscenities, her sobbing "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" and getting shoved roughly in to her seat. "What's that?" "Could you CALL THE POLICE PLEASE?" Car drives off. Fucker. Fucker, fucker, fucker. "I don't see anything." AHdhgah I want to cry. I want to cry so so much. I want to see this man commit suicide in extreme shame. No, these men. "Sorry to bother you, sir." there's a bus coming. a grosvenor/s. central bus, which means I am in the wrong direction anyways. It's 9:45. blkelbleb. catch bus to surrey central and head home. i'm sorry gordon. i will come see makeshift again in a year and a half, when I'm old enough to see you in vancouver proper. eddie vedder is at my bus stop, gargling for spare change. wow, what an amazing assortment of buses! oh yeah, apec rerouting. how extremely convenient for me! four of the five buses go near my house. I take the one that stops farthest from my house on a whim. hmm. the doorguy at the roxy is wearing bright yellow rubber overalls. get off the bus at broadway. argh, my head hurts, and my kinder surprise egg is down to a single chewable tylenol. stop at the big pink inflatable safeway, most brightly-lit of brightly-lit shops around, and get a bottle of twenty, which should last me for at least two more headaches. I get a trashy magazine at the checkout stand on a whim, probably for the same reasons that my genius aunt reads romance novels. walk home, sticking my georgia straight in my safeway bag and hiding the trashy magazine in my coat. my mind is twiddling around on unlikely topics like the relation of lemon scented origami to the ubc computing science department. I feel like someone has put a homeopathic dose of a hallucinogen in my orange juice: not enough to work it's way to the old sensory registers, but still enough to queer up your thought processes for the evening. outside my door, I look both ways, and seeing no one, take a peek at the cover of my trashy magazine. I feel so ashamed. 2001 Windows 95 tips. fuck, fuck, fuck you special provincial transit constabulary. fuck, fuck, fuck you each and every person who has ever be at up someone smaller and weaker than you. fuck, fuck, fuck feeling helpless and not even thinking to look at the bloody license plate or the intersection name. I want to cry.