okay, so, my job made me go to this weird bogus software training downtown (for some software that i not only do not use, but will actually eventually replace my job! but whatevs, if allegayny cunty wants to pay me to go i’ll go). i took an hour of personal time so i wouldn’t have to schlep all the way back to the office again, and headed home on the bus. it’s been a while since i’ve ridden the bus in the middle of the afternoon, and it was nice to be amongst a crew of oddballs instead of the usual commuters i am cheek-to-jowl with.
anyway, a hetero couple got on the bus, and you could tell by looking at their faces that their lives were just terrible. the guy was wearing a tank top and pressing a paper towel to his upper arm. i naively assumed that he’d just gotten a tattoo. but he sat down and took the paper towel off, and there was what looked like a fairly fresh stabwound on his arm. actually, it looked exactly like my arm did when i cut it very deeply when i was on wellbutrin in 1999 (you know, years before they disapproved using it on teenagers because it makes teenagers suddenly commit suicide for no reason? slicing my arm, and seeing a little bit of the inside, was enough to shock me out of the scary numb disassociative state i was in, and made me stop taking that fucking drug. my psychiatrist screamed at me and said i didn’t know what was best for myself. i kind of wonder if i would still be alive if i were a more obedient person….aaanyway…).
so, the entire bus saw this oozing, large-ish wound on this guy’s arm and semi-quietly freaked out. i just couldn’t stop staring at him, my newspaper sitting on my lap, unread. his female companion had to take a different seat than him because the bus was so damn crowded, and when he sat down he put his head on the seat in front of him, and when he leaned over you could see the deep, bloody scratches in his back. everyone was just watching this guy. teens next to me loudly speculated on the origin of the stabwound, an older woman spoke passionately to another older woman in american sign language, gesturing towards the man. the lady sipped a pepsi, looking forlorn, and the man would occasionally reach a desperate hand across the aisle, take a sip, and then hand it back. at one point, she caressed his forearm in a gesture so full of love that it nearly made me weep, that tiny thimbleful of sweetness in the giant sea of agony. when it was time for him to get off he struggled to his feet and then leaned down, with great effort, and kissed her, then stumbled off the bus. his shirt was covered in sweat and blood, and i could hear the lady saying to her seat-mate, “i’m a wreck now. just a wreck.” his seat stayed empty, still empty when i clambered off a few blocks later.
okay, i probably had something else to say, but i forgot, so i will share some things i’ve found on the internet lately. first, mushycat has the dubious distinction of making some of the only 1″ buttons that i actually want to wear. i would have DIED if this had existed when i was 15!
and i just downloaded a whole bunch of riot grrrl/queercore rarities here we’re talking, like, huggy bear’s first 7″! be still my damn heart!
here is a moving, heartwrenching, well-written and devastating blog entry about aiyana jones, the 7 year old girl who was murdered by detroit cops in her sleep.
and finally, mattilda bernstein sycamore’s blog is so damn good. i read it during my 2-hour phone shift at work, and often when i’m not at work i’m like, “where is that really good book i was reading….oh, it’s not a book” (yet, anyway). heartstopping writing, critical & radical and just so damn good.