Saturday, December 08, 2007

Holding onto the body pillow like something to save me

I actually succeed in getting out on the fire escape before the fog covers the sun -- after a half hour in direct sun I'm ready to do anything, or at least to take the bus downtown and get to the office supply store before they close -- on the way I see Women in Black standing in that same square where the bike messengers hang out by Montgomery BART, I don't know what it's called. They have signs calling for the end of the Israeli occupation, and I smile in support but no one smiles back. The office supply store is a different story, everyone is so friendly I get a datebook for next year and way too many pens because I don't know when I'll be back before they close. Then I'm down the block at RadioShack to get a corded phone since I've heard there’s as much radiation coming out of cordless phones as cellphones, what a nightmare! But can you believe they don't make corded phones with headset jacks, I get something that's supposed to work as a converter but I'm not so sure.

Outside, I walk by Women in Black again and try smiling but maybe they're not supposed to smile. I'm not so sure about the silent protest thing, but I guess it's better than just throngs of office workers heading home -- actually I'm kind of enjoying the throngs, luckily I know I can go to the Palace Hotel to use the bathroom and when I walk in there’s some indie type standing in the mirror with a big bike chain, probably a messenger but what if he's cruising and why didn’t I look him in the eyes? I actually don't even know what he looks like except for the fashion, that's how I know I'm horny. This is a nice bathroom, with marble stalls and doors that go all the way to the floor, what a resource. Outside in the grandeur of the lobby, or actually just the hallway of the lobby which is still super-grand, nobody is looking at me like a resource but I know how to meet their eyes like they're nothing and then they're not so sure.

No, they’re still sure, but it's fun to act like I don't notice their confusion or annoyance or anger or occasionally just curiosity barely masked by annoyance or anger. Back in the world of the bus stop, there's this guy that looks like one of the guys that cruises the Nob Hill Theatre -- the tweaker with facial hair who keeps getting skinnier and skinnier -- this guy is taller, but he has the same messy facial hair with a prep-gone-wrong aesthetic and I cruise him just for fun. Next to me there's an older woman with white hair stun-dried into curls who looks like she might occasionally go to the Palace Hotel, I say hello but she doesn't say anything back, or wait -- she says that's an interesting coat, what is it made out of?

I rub my fingers over the tapestry of my coat -- I don't know, maybe something velvetish? She says is it warm? I say well, it's warm enough for here, but not for the East Coast. She says there it’s just mid-season, and then her bus arrives -- have a good night!

I like random conversations like this, even though my coat isn't really warm enough and by the time the bus arrives I'm already crashing, back at home I try the magic of B-12 but it isn't magic anymore, my face is falling into my hands the throbbing of sinus sadness -- at least right now I can tell it's not from my apartment, it's from exertion, any exertion, and then I take my contacts off and get back in bed, yes bed with all the covers I don't put on at night because they make me sweat too much but earlier on I'm colder, holding onto the body pillow like something to save me.

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