Romeo: Peace, peace, Mercutio peace,
Thou talkst of nothing.
Mercutio: True, I talk of dreams:
Which are the children of an idle brain,
Begot of nothing but vain fantasy:
Which is as thin of substance as the air,
And more inconstant than the wind
Friday, August 19, 2005
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
kindness of strangers
he has been yearning for adventure, for something to happen. he has been invoking something new.
he and his friend have spent the night at the bar, taunting the bartenders to entertain them. "the robot" was their most succesful offering. the night has been amusing, high in entertainment. and yet... nothing new. he has invoked, and the universe has not listened.
until they are stumbling through their apartment building's front door.
___
it's 3 am and she's hovering over the landlady's buzzer. what to do what to do. two guys walk in behind her as she hesitates, debates. "do you need a hand?" he asks. she turns to him and giggles, embarassed but needing a little kindness from a stranger.
"i've lost my keys, and so i guess i have to wake the landlady to be let in."
his eyes go wide, "don't do that!!"
"i know, i know," she enthuses.
the landlady is a fiesty 80-something year-old woman with sharp eyes and a sharp tongue. the prospect of waking her to drunkely explain how she's lost her keys is most unsavoury. he takes pity, dons his shining armour, and offers her a couch. (it doesn't hurt that he's seen her riding her bike from his sunroom.) she accepts the salvation immediately, gratefully. (it doesn't hurt that he has mischievous eyes and a sexy smile.)
she has found shelter.
he has found an adventure.
he and his friend have spent the night at the bar, taunting the bartenders to entertain them. "the robot" was their most succesful offering. the night has been amusing, high in entertainment. and yet... nothing new. he has invoked, and the universe has not listened.
until they are stumbling through their apartment building's front door.
___
it's 3 am and she's hovering over the landlady's buzzer. what to do what to do. two guys walk in behind her as she hesitates, debates. "do you need a hand?" he asks. she turns to him and giggles, embarassed but needing a little kindness from a stranger.
"i've lost my keys, and so i guess i have to wake the landlady to be let in."
his eyes go wide, "don't do that!!"
"i know, i know," she enthuses.
the landlady is a fiesty 80-something year-old woman with sharp eyes and a sharp tongue. the prospect of waking her to drunkely explain how she's lost her keys is most unsavoury. he takes pity, dons his shining armour, and offers her a couch. (it doesn't hurt that he's seen her riding her bike from his sunroom.) she accepts the salvation immediately, gratefully. (it doesn't hurt that he has mischievous eyes and a sexy smile.)
she has found shelter.
he has found an adventure.
Thursday, August 04, 2005
such a nice man...
"he was such a nice man."
the rallying cry of the neighbours of psychopaths, sociopaths, and some of my ex-boyfriends. people who, if they're catholic enough, might torture themselves with the idea that they should have known better.
is the fact that serial killers, rapists, bombers are viewed by many of their neighbours as nice:
a testament to how antisocial us social beings have become? oh, we'll nod our good mornings, we'll chitchat about sitcoms and reality tv in those forced moments of social interaction - colleagues in the kitchen, neighbours in the elevator. but there's no depth to any of those exchanges, no furthering of our crucial interconnectedness. in overpopulated cities, in an overpopulated world, should we not learn to respect our neighbours? look out for our neighbours? rely on our neighbours? interact more, more regularly, more meaningfully with our surroundings and with each other?
or
is it a chilling testament to how we treat our weak? our quiet? our "nice people"? dedicatedly ignoring, perhaps even scoffing them, until their exile eventually, inevitably drives to the ultimate antisocial act?
just wonderin...
the rallying cry of the neighbours of psychopaths, sociopaths, and some of my ex-boyfriends. people who, if they're catholic enough, might torture themselves with the idea that they should have known better.
is the fact that serial killers, rapists, bombers are viewed by many of their neighbours as nice:
a testament to how antisocial us social beings have become? oh, we'll nod our good mornings, we'll chitchat about sitcoms and reality tv in those forced moments of social interaction - colleagues in the kitchen, neighbours in the elevator. but there's no depth to any of those exchanges, no furthering of our crucial interconnectedness. in overpopulated cities, in an overpopulated world, should we not learn to respect our neighbours? look out for our neighbours? rely on our neighbours? interact more, more regularly, more meaningfully with our surroundings and with each other?
or
is it a chilling testament to how we treat our weak? our quiet? our "nice people"? dedicatedly ignoring, perhaps even scoffing them, until their exile eventually, inevitably drives to the ultimate antisocial act?
just wonderin...
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