July 6, 2000.  Thursday
 

 

    I was in the lobby for about 7 seconds today, then boom, they start talking about the weather.  Just like that.  First thing after "hey..."  I don't know why I notice and am bothered so much by talking about the weather.  Maybe it's that REM song.  I don't know.  But whenever someone talks to me about the weather, I find it instantly debilitating.  I'm so ultra sensitive to the cliched scene I'm being dragged into, that I just shut down.  On the rare occasion where I actually do join in, I feel stupid during and dirty afterwards.   Today, I had an instant flashback to my last office job, and the horrible elevator banter I had to endure.  Thank god the elevators here are twice as fast, and there are twice as many of them.  So my exposure time is minimal.  But is it me?  Is it some hang-up I have with the lowest form of small talk, or is it them? Are they just horrible? Personally, I'd rather stand there in an awful, awkward silence than stand there in an awful, awkward conversation.  "Hey! Hot enough for ya?!"  "Boy, how 'bout this heat huh?" "yeah. I sure hope it cools down for the weekend!"  I guess it's just my own personal rule, that if the weather is the first thing that comes to my mind, I just shut up. Sometimes i wish we'd live on a planet that rested on a straighter axis, so there'd be no seasons. I wonder what we'd talk about.   Traffic?  Shoes?  Deep, personal, meaningful thoughts? or "*Sigh*...  Remember when we used to have weather?"
 
    Going home on the train yesterday, there was a woman who appeared to be from out of town, judging by her suburban-looking 12 year old companion and a lot of baggage.  Literary, not the normal "baggage" that most girls carry.  Anyway, I think she may have been a model.  This struck me because I think she was my first encounter with the unattractive model-model.  She was definitely model-like.  At least 6 feet tall, and sort of skinny, although the way she was standing with her hip jutted out made it look like she was pregant on the side.  She wasn't really unattractive, just not all that attractive.  But I could see how she could be made up to look waifish and gaunt and kind of like a mannequin.  Actually, my first impressions was that she looked like an old mannequin.  She really looked like a mannequin come to life.  Or more precisely, like a mannequin coming to life, like she wasn't all there yet.  Anyway, I stared at her pretty blatantly most of the ride home.  She had a cold detached gloss over her eyes.  Definitely a model.  I can't imagine what else she might be.  Then again, I don't have a very good imagination.  At least, not when it comes to other people.

    So I got another nice notice from AT&T yesterday, saying that my phone service will not only be shut off, but the account will be closed if payment is not received in three days.  This was a bit of bad news, considering it took them two weeks from the day i sent the last bill to say they received it.  And I'm a but perturbed at my other roommates, the transatlantic ones anyway, because I've had this list of bills in a nice little chart I made lying around for two weeks now, and I got nothing.  I hate when I mail out a bill, check the mail, and find the next bill there.  I still have no idea what I'm paying every month in utilities, because not once have we been able to pay everything on time, either through lack of money or lack of effort.  I'm getting very sick of it.  So naturally, last night when I couldn't sleep again, this was keeping me up tossing and turning.  So another swell 5 hours of sleep.  Then I was woken up by Howard Stern.  Someone was screaming something like "All white people are fagots! And Howard Stern, he da biggest fagot!"  And then some women saying Louis Farrakhan was the devil or something.  It's nice to be stirred from slumber by a nice dose of race war.  I've gotta start listening to low-band AM radio.
 
 

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