| (no subject) |
[Mar. 31st, 2008|11:55 am] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| | Stimulated | ] | I've just come back from the city, where I've spent quite an eventful morning. First, my dad picked me up at around quarter past seven. We went to my school where I'm currently studying culinary arts, so I could drop off my gear & view the notice board to see what time today I'm going to weigh up my ingredients for tomorrows five course meal assesment. I looked at the schedule and concluded that I didn't need to be back until 4pm. So I could go into the city and see Achille for breakfast! Unfortunatley though, I was mumbling to myself when dad was driving to the dry-cleaners to drop my chefs uniform off, and he mistook it for a signal that I was upset, so he started at me that I was being 'manipulative through guilt' which he stated as being 'terribly obvious' and 'quite funny'. Trying to make me feel like a joke, I pressume. Which I then felt quite upset about, since all I was doing was mumbling, which is no big deal. Fuck. LOL, I can't even get away with innocent blabbering these days without someone putting the blame on me that I'm up to my old tricks. Ah, fuck humans the dumb cunts.
SO ANYWAY~
I told dad when I took my stuff in to the dry cleaners that he wouldn't have to put up with my nonsence, so then he prepard to drive the car off but waited until I had finished. Then I decided that he'll be best without me, so told him to get on with his day. So he drove off, and left me in the rain, pondering on what I should do now. Since I didn't feel like going back home, I walked to the bus stop, silently wallowing to myself amongst the drizzle & dark atmosphere & blaring car lights.
When I was on the bus, I suddenly felt quite comfortable. It was nice. A bus load of silent people, on there way to work. The loud humming of the radiator. The condensation streaked on the large windows. Beautiful. I didn't mind where I was, since I usually do. I usually can't wait to get off the damn clunk of transportation. But eventually I did. I walked briskly up the street called 'Cuba' where everyone interesting goes, but at 9am on a monday morning, nothing much of interest appears, apart from just up the road, where the unconventialists hang, which I know. I go into the Caffe, pretending that I'm not interested in the first person I lay my eyes on. Who I walk up to, whos behind the Espresso Machine, and say 'hey, a long black?' then continue to sit, a place I choose opposite where my desired one spends some time on this day, on this morning, making coffee, I decide.
It's one big game. A game which neither of us concludes it as a game. A game which neither of us knows the rules. But if I'm the only one playing, then it's all in my head. He's probably thinking the same thing. Now I know it's all in my head. Or is it? We make eye contact one way or another. He delivered me two cups, and a plate with two garnished croissants with nutella. Hm.
I like being busy. So I call up someone, Bronwyn from IO, Altitude Stimulation, and ask on whether there is a time avaliable now? There is. I gulp my cup of black bitter coffee down and get ready to walk, and the weather - which is behaving graciously for someone in a rush to be somewhere by 10.
Breathing is stupendous. Especially when a machine is controlling it, while your concious, I might add. I'm watching Kill Bill Volume one, and Black Mamba is explaining the background of Cottonmouth, why she is the worlds best assassinator, and I realize, I could be the worlds best assassinator. It'd be such a trip, & I'd be so good at it too. |
|
|