now we live out
where the street ends
in a basement apartment just like our friends
we always said that we were different
but you know now that we weren't
'cause there's holes in all the bottles and my lungs hurt
everytime i breathe
everytime i try to leave
everytime i breathe
-Basement Apartment by Sarah Harmer
Ok. I'm going to confess something I'm rather embarrassed about. I don't know how to drive. There. I've said it.
I'm 35 years old and I don't know how to drive. I moved back to Canada when I was 17. My grandma gave me money for driving lessons and I took a trip to Vancouver instead.
Now I'm petrified about learning. My excuse? I have ADD and I'm scared of killing someone because I was distracted by the pretty lights.
Since recently I've been spending a lot of time visiting my mom in the hospital, I've been spending a lot of time on public transit. Over the past couple weeks, I've seen some things.
Saturday, I had a pleasant bus observation: a group of Japanese hipster exchange students. I felt pretty damned dowdy next to them. One struck me, a girl with purple streaked hair, ragged shag talking animatedly. She wore a lightweight cotton jacket with pale brown mickey mouse silhouettes looking like something from a '70s airline logo. Underneath she had a tight white lycra tank top under a black pinafore with metallic beading, sorta '50s housewife does Vegas showgirl. The topper? This large pale purple crystal heart around her neck. I won't even describe the boys, except to say it was very anime. Do you ever wish you could step into someone else's life for a few days?
Another day, I'm at the back of the bus, reading. I smell glue. As I'm exiting the bus I see a solvent abuser, eyes red and streaming, turning periodically to the window to puke up long translucent streams of god knows what. He and I locked eyes briefly. It seemed like he was falling into me. Reality is, he probably couldn't even see me.
Yesterday morning: I'm sitting at the back of the bus again. This extremely thin elderly person gets on and sits down next to me. I look closer and realize it's not an old man; it's a clubkid I used to party with ten years ago, friend of a friend. He's shriveled, emaciated and he looks about 70. His feet reminded me of puppy feet, too big for the rest of him. I don't think it was meth. The poor thing was sitting sideways, shifting back and forth on his buttocks, the obvious lack of flesh causing him extreme discomfort.
It made me feel frail to look at his failing body.
An elderly, very properly dressed matron cheered me up later. She exhorted the group of cursing punks in mohawks at the back of the bus to start using "kind english."
Sometimes, people make me smile.
where the street ends
in a basement apartment just like our friends
we always said that we were different
but you know now that we weren't
'cause there's holes in all the bottles and my lungs hurt
everytime i breathe
everytime i try to leave
everytime i breathe
-Basement Apartment by Sarah Harmer
Ok. I'm going to confess something I'm rather embarrassed about. I don't know how to drive. There. I've said it.
I'm 35 years old and I don't know how to drive. I moved back to Canada when I was 17. My grandma gave me money for driving lessons and I took a trip to Vancouver instead.
Now I'm petrified about learning. My excuse? I have ADD and I'm scared of killing someone because I was distracted by the pretty lights.
Since recently I've been spending a lot of time visiting my mom in the hospital, I've been spending a lot of time on public transit. Over the past couple weeks, I've seen some things.
Saturday, I had a pleasant bus observation: a group of Japanese hipster exchange students. I felt pretty damned dowdy next to them. One struck me, a girl with purple streaked hair, ragged shag talking animatedly. She wore a lightweight cotton jacket with pale brown mickey mouse silhouettes looking like something from a '70s airline logo. Underneath she had a tight white lycra tank top under a black pinafore with metallic beading, sorta '50s housewife does Vegas showgirl. The topper? This large pale purple crystal heart around her neck. I won't even describe the boys, except to say it was very anime. Do you ever wish you could step into someone else's life for a few days?
Another day, I'm at the back of the bus, reading. I smell glue. As I'm exiting the bus I see a solvent abuser, eyes red and streaming, turning periodically to the window to puke up long translucent streams of god knows what. He and I locked eyes briefly. It seemed like he was falling into me. Reality is, he probably couldn't even see me.
Yesterday morning: I'm sitting at the back of the bus again. This extremely thin elderly person gets on and sits down next to me. I look closer and realize it's not an old man; it's a clubkid I used to party with ten years ago, friend of a friend. He's shriveled, emaciated and he looks about 70. His feet reminded me of puppy feet, too big for the rest of him. I don't think it was meth. The poor thing was sitting sideways, shifting back and forth on his buttocks, the obvious lack of flesh causing him extreme discomfort.
It made me feel frail to look at his failing body.
An elderly, very properly dressed matron cheered me up later. She exhorted the group of cursing punks in mohawks at the back of the bus to start using "kind english."
Sometimes, people make me smile.
VIEW 25 of 29 COMMENTS
AND i always catch the quickest visual noone ever wanted to see, such as your above of the Glue Junkie. Sometimes people make me confused, sometimes a little angry, but you always make me smile