scenes from intersecting lives, part 1
the day was as perfect as they get. an early summer afternoon so pure it could be etched in glass for future generations to marvel at. so perfect, he thought, it would be a crime to stay indoors. so he resolved to take his laptop outside and find a shady tree to work under.
he sat cross-legged under a tall oak, laptop resting on his shins. he would write for a bit, then sit back and watch the world go by around him. there were the usual assortment of people on the campus diag, lots of students and a small collection of what he always thought of as the "diag people." the diag people were a loose and ever-changing assortment of transients, skaters, and young panhandling kids; not quite hippies but dirty and always playing some shabby instrument for a little spare change.
as he's working, one young woman breaks off from this group and starts slowly walking his way. she looks to be eighteen or nineteen, a stocky girl, vaguely latina, wearing a brightly-colored sundress. as she approaches he can see that the dress is a little dirty and she has a myriad of piercings: little colored baubles either stuck to or mysteriously pierced through her skin. she's going to ask for a dollar, he thinks.
"do you mind if I talk to you for a minute?" she asks
"not at all."
"thanks. you seem normal. I needed somebody normal to talk to."
she sits down next to him. she reminds him of an old friend of hers. she seems slightly out of it, either a bit high or hungover.
they chat idly for a while. she tells him that her friends are bringing her down and that she needs to stop smoking so much weed and crack. he gives vague agreement, trying to be encouraging without seeming condescending or judgmental. she'd spent six months in the army, she said, but got discharged for reasons she doesn't divulge. lately she's been living in a cheap apartment on saved money, but didn't have a job. "it's a shitty place," she says, "lots of drug dealing."
"can I ask your opinion on something?" she asks.
"sure."
"there's this guy I know going out to california in a few days. he asked me to go with him and I really want to get out of here. do you think I should go?"
she then goes on to describe this guy, who sounds extremely possessive and also batshit crazy.
he counsels her, as best he can, not to go to california.
"he'll be the only person you know out there and you'll be stuck with him. And he sounds like a bad dude and you won't be able to get back. you'll be stuck. Out there. With him."
"yeah, thanks," she says. "I really value your opinion because you're completely on the outside."
after a little more talking, she gets up, they say their goodbyes and she walks away to rejoin the other diag people. he sits for a while, no longer working, hoping for everything that she doesn't go to california.
he sat cross-legged under a tall oak, laptop resting on his shins. he would write for a bit, then sit back and watch the world go by around him. there were the usual assortment of people on the campus diag, lots of students and a small collection of what he always thought of as the "diag people." the diag people were a loose and ever-changing assortment of transients, skaters, and young panhandling kids; not quite hippies but dirty and always playing some shabby instrument for a little spare change.
as he's working, one young woman breaks off from this group and starts slowly walking his way. she looks to be eighteen or nineteen, a stocky girl, vaguely latina, wearing a brightly-colored sundress. as she approaches he can see that the dress is a little dirty and she has a myriad of piercings: little colored baubles either stuck to or mysteriously pierced through her skin. she's going to ask for a dollar, he thinks.
"do you mind if I talk to you for a minute?" she asks
"not at all."
"thanks. you seem normal. I needed somebody normal to talk to."
she sits down next to him. she reminds him of an old friend of hers. she seems slightly out of it, either a bit high or hungover.
they chat idly for a while. she tells him that her friends are bringing her down and that she needs to stop smoking so much weed and crack. he gives vague agreement, trying to be encouraging without seeming condescending or judgmental. she'd spent six months in the army, she said, but got discharged for reasons she doesn't divulge. lately she's been living in a cheap apartment on saved money, but didn't have a job. "it's a shitty place," she says, "lots of drug dealing."
"can I ask your opinion on something?" she asks.
"sure."
"there's this guy I know going out to california in a few days. he asked me to go with him and I really want to get out of here. do you think I should go?"
she then goes on to describe this guy, who sounds extremely possessive and also batshit crazy.
he counsels her, as best he can, not to go to california.
"he'll be the only person you know out there and you'll be stuck with him. And he sounds like a bad dude and you won't be able to get back. you'll be stuck. Out there. With him."
"yeah, thanks," she says. "I really value your opinion because you're completely on the outside."
after a little more talking, she gets up, they say their goodbyes and she walks away to rejoin the other diag people. he sits for a while, no longer working, hoping for everything that she doesn't go to california.
random bits cobbled together by j-dub
2 Comments:
That was a great piece of writing. Thanks for that.
thank you. it's a new theme I'm just realizing.
actually, looking back I have some other posts that fit the theme, such as this one.
I think when this weblog is long since defunct, these will be the posts I go back to to read myself.
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