Long Overdue

I haven't written anything in ages... in part it's because I've been pre-occupied with other things. In part, it's because it's been a long time since I've felt like I'm on vacation, and I guess that despite my lack of feeling settled, I'm living real life now. Maybe feeling unsettled is part of that. In any case, it is somehow easier for me to process events when they are new, when they are temporary. This posting I actually wrote in September, a night out with friends but on my own at the same time. If you manage to make it through, I can tell you what the next one will be about. In any case, the posting is long overdue:

Head.
What?
La tete.
Excuse me?
How do you say it in French, giving head?
Ah, I see, la pipe...

I'm standing in line at subway and it would be fabulous if my night were already over. I'm sure I wish that less than the guys standing behind the counter. I've just come from a children's psychiatric hospital. Well, it's not that anymore. Now there are adults living there and no doctors. The adults pay £80 per week.

A new crop of drunkards has walked into the restaurant--if you care to call Subway a restaurant. One of them tries to butt in front of me but the guy behind the counter knows I was there first, so ignores him and takes my order.

A WHOLE SIX INCHES!!!

That's the drunk guy.

ARE YOU SURE YOU CAN TAKE ALL THAT??

Wow, so charming. It's easy to ignore him, but his friend manages to be even more obnoxious. The friend walks behind me and touches my head. I politely ask him to not (fucking) touch me and he repeats my words in a mocking tone, because what else could a drunk guy with a limited vocabulary actually say?

At times like these I start to think laws that limit alcohol consumption (Thank you Boris, for your first law in London) are a good idea. Would religion help? Some might.

Now back to the mental hospital. I can't decide if I find it creepy or not. The railings and flooring are made of wood and the windows are big with nice curtains. It's not institutional, in the way modern hospitals are. There are still kid's books lying around though and thats a bit weird. One is about lions eating little boys or something, how can that be good for psychologically disturbed children? Still, if I weren't so intent on getting a "real home" this might be a good place to move into.

The bus home is filled with more drunk people. I had to wait ages at King's Cross to get it. There was a group of men wearing bright orange vests huddled around the entrance of the station and as I watched them, I wondered if their presence had anything to do with today's evacuation. I wasn't in the station, but outside. The sidewalk was jammed with people, some of them freaking out. One lady was shoved up against a news stand and loudly saying to no one, everyone, "One minute you're just standing there and another, there are so many people you can't move! What is going on here???"

I heard someone say something about a bomb scare.

But it was actually another evacuation that put me in the mental hospital.

Earlier in the evening, I was standing outside a pub, freezing and hungry while Bruno rolled a cigarette and Lili tried to convince a carpet layer that his views on immigration were misinformed. I ditched them to go home, so made my way down to Oxford Circus and the Central Line. When I got to the bottom of the escalator, sirens started blaring. I kept walking with the crowd for a moment and then everyone stopped suddenly, collective delayed-reaction. Then someone said, "There's an emergency, we have to evacuate."

Some people tried to go up the escalator that was the still rolling down. Then we all
started walking forward, through the maze of tube-station hallways.

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN... ALL PASSENGERS ARE NOW BEING ASKED TO EVACUATE DUE TO AN EMERGENCY.

I walked in the crowd and turned a corner and then another. I half expected a cloud of black smoke to be greeting me around each one. Then I heard someone say, There's a body on the tracks... But who knows if that was true?

I wondered if maybe that lame goodbye to Lili and Bruno would be the last anyone ever heard from me. Then I told myself to just calm down, the exit would be right around the next corner. It was. Then I went to the mental hospital.


The next posting will be about finance. It's as if I'm learning through osmosis, just by being here...