Last edited Tue Jan 31, 2012, 11:05 PM - Edit history (1)
Once I was able to stay mostly out of bed I resumed exploring The City, often with the help of a friend who would call and bug me to get out.
Having recently rediscovered the ability to notice colors, and wanting to get out after a long period of isolation, one early afternoon I walked out of my apartment to get something to eat. That's one of the greatest aspects of living in the middle of a city, being able to step out your door and find literally anything within walking or bus distance. Used bookstores, groceries, coffee shops, Starbucks, bagels, fish & chips, Starbucks, Indian buffet, another damned Starbucks, great dives, bargain stores, seafood fresh off the boat. Sunny day, blue sky, very nice, at least when I spent time analyzing it.
It's funny to think about that now, just going out and getting something to eat anywhere I wanted; back then I still had money. Never tried to get rich, and scored that goal. In all the years spent in The City, I worked less than part time, by design. But I made more than enough to live comfortably, have cable+movie channels, nice meals out, add to my various collections, and buy new computer hardware & software by necessity or simply want.
My mood was dark, probably a dark cool grey that day and deciding among the many options as I walked became a problem. Not a "problem" in the usual sense, but folks in this group know what I mean. Walking from one completely suitable place to another, unable to settle on one, raised my anxiety level.
Ended up in a little place that I knew wasn't very good, just really a basic sandwich place, and who can mess up a sandwich, anyway? (This place.) My comfort food, swiss tuna melt on crusty whole grain with avocado, sprouts and fries, proved alien and insurmountable to them. Their fries were crinkle cut, and at that point I realized I hated crinkle cut. The place a block away did it perfectly but I'd already dismissed it.
Having eaten, I started up the hill to get back home. This time I was able to get up the hills fairly easily but halfway up I felt I was going to cry. Not "about" anything. A few people walked by, me avoiding eye contact as usual. My cell phone rang; I answered.
"Hi, (me)! (some name I forget) here!" the voice said.
I felt hot in the face. "Fuck you!" I yelled, loudly, and hung up. The tone and delivery of the speaker's message rankled me, like maybe a vendor or salesman, but it easily could have been a potential client. Whoever it was, I'm sure they never called again.
Shaking, dizzy, my face became wet. I reached out to lean on a tree and vomited. Cars drove by, their drivers' faces turned toward me. Several people walked a long way around me. Even though I made no attempt to look any of them full on, it was obvious some wore expressions of disgust.
For years previously I'd done the same thing myself, giving wide berth to disheveled people, those who yelled out, seemingly to no one, staggered or walked as though they were carrying something heavy on their backs. "Something" had been wrong with "those people," and it was none of my business. My only concern was to hurry on and get past them.
(edited for clarity)
(twice)
(thrice!)
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