Q: Would you rather live with some one who smelled like ass, or some one who moaned all the time?
Your old pal,
A: Well Sqiggley, you may not know this but I once had an unnerving experience with a moaner. I went to visit a friend in Victoria and had to stay at her home while she went to work one evening. Notice how I didn't say "her home alone." She had roommates and one of those roommates had a severe emotional problem. The story goes something like this...
I was sitting in my friend's bedroom, reading a book, when I heard someone enter the home. It crossed my mind that I could go and say hi, but I could also scare the hell out of some poor girl coming home from work and finding a strange man therein. So I continued to read and all was well. Eventually I heard the water running for the bath (an important side bar, the walls of the house must have been very thin) in due course the water stopped and the bather proceded to enjoy a bath. Actually, enjoy is the wrong word. There is no word to explain what happened next. I started to hear this aweful noise, it was the most miserable, unhappy sound I think I've ever heard. It was also a marvel of human ability. I don't think I ever heard this woman take a breath, she just kept moaning. This lasted for well over an hour. Every now and then she ran the water, presumably to warm the bath. I honestly thought she was killing herself, her moans went from low, to very low, to high, with the occassion sob thrown in, and every now her hand slapped the water (or at least that's what it sounded like). I was racked with indecission. Part of me really wanted to go and see if she was okay, I was imagining all kinds of scenerios in which this girl died and I could have done something, but didn't. On the other hand, I didn't want to disturb her because she was obviously having a very personal moment, and she didn't know I was there. Pete, believe me when I say that angles singing couldn't have sounded as wonderful as sound of the water being drained from the tub. The moaning stopped, and, for the time being, this girl was okay. The next morning was kind of fun. Both of my friend's roommates were getting breakfast and I was trying to figure out which one was holding on to life by the thinnest of threads, and you know what Squiggs, I had no idea. So in answer to your question, I don't want to live with someone who moans, or stinks.
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
I used to wear 'casual crime fighting gloves.' They would have been the height of fashion in the '80s, with their aqua colouring, missing finger tips and glam rock style. But, it was the late ninties and I felt the world needed something daring, something that said "I'm going to take out petty thugs and small crime syndicates." When I put on those gloves, people treated me differently. They would give me a little more space on the sidewalk, and on numerous occassions I noticed peole noticing me. Sometimes someone would smile or laugh... Yep, those were the days.