doomed: the diary of an hourly partner

good grief.

the one time - the one time - a boy i don't know talks to me on the subway, it's a weird and unnecessary situation.

let me start by describing what he looks like. the same coloring as chris cornell, only shorter. probably less cool. he's wearing black shorts that end about three inches above where his black socks start. black shoes. black wife beater. i look at my own outfit and realize that i am also wearing all black by coincidence. we're clearly a match made in wherever. pierced lip, eyebrow, nose, ears, and his tongue. that's right people, he talked to me. also, he had a rolled up poster.

and that's where it all starts. with me watching him play air guitar on this poster. he's leaning against a pillar and is literally rocking out on his fucking poster. i can't take my eyes off the sheer toolness. he's also wearing one of those wristbands with a skull and crossbones stitched on it. "hey, are you 21?"

you are not talking to me. "yeah."

"my band is playing this show coming up and i'm just trying to spread the word."

"i actually don't live in the city." you're not telling anyone else about your band.

he talks to me about a couple bands. i do not initiate any questions, but answer his as politely as i can considering he's hitting on me at 12:30am in a semi-crowded subway station and i'm tired. i'm wearing andy's lawrence arms hoodie. i hope this doesn't make me more cool. i'm not sure i even like the lawrence arms.

i tell him i live in st. louis when he asks. he contradicts everything he says to impress me.

"i just got off work from this shitty bar."

"which one?"

blah blah.

"oh i've heard of that."

"yeah it's pretty cool." everything is pretty cool.

yeah, i say, i'm just visiting. my friend lives near the... addison stop is it? yeah. no i'm leaving tomorrow. more small talk from him about chicago ending with "this city is so fucking indecisive." what? how? it's a city. you are so stupid. meanwhile, i'm making up a whole fake life for myself in my head, just in case he asks me anything else i need to fake. it's actually pretty fun. i decide that i work at the rocket bar. of course i do! why wouldn't i work there?

i stop talking to him. i mean, i never started, but we stopped talking. we get on the same car because he's standing right next to me. when i get off, i want to say good luck to him with his band. it's the nice thing to do. and i do wish him luck, good for him for trying to be a rock star. i'm all for that shit. but i didn't say anything. i spent the rest of the ride and walk home thinking about how i was going to blog about this. i never felt threatened by him. if anything, i was hoping people around me were seeing his obvious attempt at picking me up and were getting a kick out of it.

if he'd asked, i would have told him the fake name i always give out.

love, kate

posted by kate @ 1:06 AM