Monday, May 12, 2008

Je te plumerai la tête

More than a week later and I still have a job.

Yesterday seriously grossed me out. While sitting on a bench waiting for the metro to arrive a man was standing in front of me, clearing his throat, blowing his nose, and spitting down onto the tracks over and over and over again. I got on the train and had to step over vomit to get to a seat. When I got out of the Vendôme metro station to go wait for the 105 bus to arrive a dog came up and shat a big stinky pile a few feet away from me. When I got to my place of work I went into the kitchen where on the counter a dish with leftover dinner from the night before was crawling with ants. Hundreds of them. When I went to the bathroom a box of suppositories sitting on top of a jar of petroleum jelly stared at me while I pissed. Later, the dog hacked up something nondescript. Also, J. has taken to not wearing pants around me. While waiting at the Lionel-Groulx metro station a man urinated into a garbage bin. On the train a woman sat with her feet on the seat next to mine. Her toenails were dried-out, yellowish-green, and about a quarter of an inch thick. All day long I felt like I was under attack. I doubted the existence of God. I badly needed a drink.

1 comment:

Matthew said...

Note to self:

David F. Noble’s Forces of Production or America by Design, Robert Fitch’s The Assassination of New York