Thursday, January 29, 2004
Last night while we were sitting in Freeman's finishing up the last of our Bill Cosby meal, a bearded young academic came in; he had just been mugged.
It wasn't so bad, I mean they didn't really hurt me. All they got was twenty dollars. I gave it to them so they'd leave me alone. They were just a bunch of stupid 15 year olds.
I said to dining companions, Philip and Claudette, "They're stupid? Those kids just made 20 bucks in under 15 minutes. It takes me 3 hours to make 20 bucks, who's stupid?"
It wasn't so bad, I mean they didn't really hurt me. All they got was twenty dollars. I gave it to them so they'd leave me alone. They were just a bunch of stupid 15 year olds.
I said to dining companions, Philip and Claudette, "They're stupid? Those kids just made 20 bucks in under 15 minutes. It takes me 3 hours to make 20 bucks, who's stupid?"
The other night I was walking home from Siobhan's and my fly kept on coming undone. I felt a little bad about walking up Agricola with my long johns hanging out of my crotch. It was rather cold and I refused to take off my bulky mittens in order to properly zip up my fly. Everytime I'd try to grasp my zipper I looked like I was grabbing myself akin to the way Michael Jackson in the Moonwalker video game grabbed himself when he ran out of his special weapon (which was obviously a rag drenched in chloroform). This happened several times walking down the street.
About two blocks from my house, a young lady initiated a genteel exchange with me,
'My you must be freezing'
'I sure am'
and then it changed,
Heyyyyy...are you looking for some company?
'No thanks, I'm good.'
There's a number of prostitutes in my neighbourhood. There's rarely a night when I don't encounter at least 3 in the last couple of blocks of Agricola before I reach my house. I'm not talking about Julia Roberts type prostitutes waiting for their sugar daddy, Richard Gere, to show up and lavish them with furs and take them to high society race tracks.
It's odd how easily I've integrated them into my life. I didn't miss a beat when I happily said 'No thanks, I'm good.' Maybe that's not so weird, but the idea of that happening just seems to boggle my mind. I'm not entirely sure why. I think part of it is that it's entirely fucked up that these women feel the need to go out in -30 weather in order to 'make a living'. I'm not talking about any sense of empowerment, it's obvious from their faces, their weathered faces and their inability to look you in the eye when you pass by, that very few of them are feeling like they're in control of any destiny.
I say this and then I worry "well what if I'm such playing up some paternal 'I know what's best for you, you obviously don't' role?" What if they do feel empowered by their line of work? Maybe it's me that's uncomfortable, maybe it's me that speaks in short clipped sentences and won't make eye contact, maybe it's me that's too ashamed to ask them how they feel.
I think what troubles me is that the city of Halifax is seriously debating whether or not to spend 150,000 dollars on advertising at the 2004 Grey Cup in Ottawa. It just sort of blows me away that in a city where people feel forced to or at least feel like they have to walk the streets at night when it's minus 30, minus 40 degrees, outside the city council's main business is deciding whether or not they need to buy a banner at a fucking football game. Maybe it's like comparing apples and oranges, but I just think that priorities need to change. I'm sick of bread and circuses.
Then again, what am I doing?
About two blocks from my house, a young lady initiated a genteel exchange with me,
'My you must be freezing'
'I sure am'
and then it changed,
Heyyyyy...are you looking for some company?
'No thanks, I'm good.'
There's a number of prostitutes in my neighbourhood. There's rarely a night when I don't encounter at least 3 in the last couple of blocks of Agricola before I reach my house. I'm not talking about Julia Roberts type prostitutes waiting for their sugar daddy, Richard Gere, to show up and lavish them with furs and take them to high society race tracks.
It's odd how easily I've integrated them into my life. I didn't miss a beat when I happily said 'No thanks, I'm good.' Maybe that's not so weird, but the idea of that happening just seems to boggle my mind. I'm not entirely sure why. I think part of it is that it's entirely fucked up that these women feel the need to go out in -30 weather in order to 'make a living'. I'm not talking about any sense of empowerment, it's obvious from their faces, their weathered faces and their inability to look you in the eye when you pass by, that very few of them are feeling like they're in control of any destiny.
I say this and then I worry "well what if I'm such playing up some paternal 'I know what's best for you, you obviously don't' role?" What if they do feel empowered by their line of work? Maybe it's me that's uncomfortable, maybe it's me that speaks in short clipped sentences and won't make eye contact, maybe it's me that's too ashamed to ask them how they feel.
I think what troubles me is that the city of Halifax is seriously debating whether or not to spend 150,000 dollars on advertising at the 2004 Grey Cup in Ottawa. It just sort of blows me away that in a city where people feel forced to or at least feel like they have to walk the streets at night when it's minus 30, minus 40 degrees, outside the city council's main business is deciding whether or not they need to buy a banner at a fucking football game. Maybe it's like comparing apples and oranges, but I just think that priorities need to change. I'm sick of bread and circuses.
Then again, what am I doing?
