The Everyday Chronicles I
Jun. 5th, 2005 11:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nfotxnTry not to be awkward, I though to myself as a ambled to the bus stop. 730AM on a Sunday, the usual gaggle of service economy fools waiting for the hourly service. There stands a former roommate of friends who I kinda dig. He lives near me although I only see him early in the mornings going to work. He is seeing a girl who allegedly stole a lot of money from the place where my friends and their ex-roommate work. People stopped talking to each other... it's all bullshit. Maybe if I had more gays in my life I'd be all up in similar shit. Maybe not.
It's deadly awkward and the broken conversation lingers dead over tired, lazy minds. Suddenly it's nearly 32°C/90°F and I'm at work. The same brief conversations over and over again for 8.5hrs riding waves of caffeine until it's time to go home.
I have a new regular. A retired British gentleman and his wife Margaret. He enjoys Little Britain and Women's Tennis. At every opportunity we discuss the former and I suspect he's trying to get on the dude-wink-nudge with me on the later. However it's kinda hard to be all "I LIKE COCK" at any given opportunity. The militant queers (aka. bourgeois urban) would call this giving in or self-hating or some such indulged nonsense. And I used to buy into that... when I was 19. But the fact is being somewhat discrete is only polite. Plus I like making innuendo about short tennis skirts... perhaps not a perfect Kinsey Six?
By the time I go home the breeze is blowing. My de rigeur jean jacket in a plastic bag. Walking across the city there is some sort of Sikh celebration wrapping up in front of city hall. A truck pulling 40 or so Port-O-Lets off the frontage and women in beautifully coloured dress blow in the wind as the transport BBQ condiments into their vans. Across the street the new Art Gallery looks great finished. It's a perfect moment to end a day on an upswing walking slowly in the soft breeze.
It's deadly awkward and the broken conversation lingers dead over tired, lazy minds. Suddenly it's nearly 32°C/90°F and I'm at work. The same brief conversations over and over again for 8.5hrs riding waves of caffeine until it's time to go home.
I have a new regular. A retired British gentleman and his wife Margaret. He enjoys Little Britain and Women's Tennis. At every opportunity we discuss the former and I suspect he's trying to get on the dude-wink-nudge with me on the later. However it's kinda hard to be all "I LIKE COCK" at any given opportunity. The militant queers (aka. bourgeois urban) would call this giving in or self-hating or some such indulged nonsense. And I used to buy into that... when I was 19. But the fact is being somewhat discrete is only polite. Plus I like making innuendo about short tennis skirts... perhaps not a perfect Kinsey Six?
By the time I go home the breeze is blowing. My de rigeur jean jacket in a plastic bag. Walking across the city there is some sort of Sikh celebration wrapping up in front of city hall. A truck pulling 40 or so Port-O-Lets off the frontage and women in beautifully coloured dress blow in the wind as the transport BBQ condiments into their vans. Across the street the new Art Gallery looks great finished. It's a perfect moment to end a day on an upswing walking slowly in the soft breeze.
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Date: 2005-06-07 11:19 am (UTC)Nicely put!
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Date: 2005-06-08 12:52 pm (UTC)For me, the dance is more exciting than anything else. I'd say, go with the winks and nudges for as long as you can draw it out!