Coffee Rhetoric: noises
Showing posts with label noises. Show all posts
Showing posts with label noises. Show all posts

April 30, 2009

Bus Tales: Kindly Shut The Hell Up

Dear Ranting Woman on the 7:55 AM Farmington Ave/Downtown Bus:
Every morning, regardless of whether I want to hear it or not, when I board the bus I can always count on you to go off on some random, loud tirade about any number of topics. None of the dots seem to connect, no one pays attention or responds to you, but you sit there... loud and pretentious with your raggedy, discount bin Beauty Max wig on... hootin' and hollerin' about the minutia. Eyes bugged, mouth twisted as you "hmph" and "tsk" about welfare recipients, how you don't go to work to pay for lazy women who push out "baby after baby", what a great job you think former jailbird Governor John Rowland did implementing whichever program he deemed necessary, so forth and so on. What the hell are you on about lady???
Its barely 8AM in the morning! Many of us are caffeine deprived, harried from rushing out the front door, and chomping at the bit to get to work or to the nearest Starbucks so we can get some delicious, robust java in our systems. We are mentally trying to prepare ourselves for the busy workday ahead of us, but we can't concentrate on our thoughts because you're flapping your gob nonstop. You sit there with a book open on your lap, but never really focusing on its contents, as you run your pie hole about a bunch of trivial B.S. that none of us want to hear, so early in the morning. The banality of your ranting makes me feel uneasy, not to mention it irritates the hell out of everyone else. I saw that man sitting next to you, giving you the side-eye a few mornings ago. He couldn't scramble off of the bus fast enough, when it was his turn to get off. And what about the two women trying to carry on a convo betwixt and between one another, with their indoor voices? You just kept talking over them with your loud, obnoxious, deep monotone. A succession of doo-doo on top of stupidity. Interrupting them. They finally gave up and sat quietly for the remainder of the bus ride, their mouths in tight lines!
Two A.M.s ago, imagine my despair and annoyance when I couldn't untangle my effing ear plugs so I could drown you out with my music! This morning however, I made quick work of detangling and plugging in prior to the bus's arrival. I was ready for you! Lo and behold, as soon as I boarded, you started running your mouth and wagging your be-wigged head, talking about (to no one in particular): "I gotta try to put mahself in a good mood!! Gotta see if I can get in a GOOD MOOD this mornin'!" Lady PLEASE! My fingers could not push the volume button up quick enough to drown out your hot garbage. Also, riddle me this: Why sit there with a damn book open on your lap, if you have no intention of sitting quietly and reading, til your damn stop comes up?? Do you wake up in the morn, look at your dry, haggard reflection, and wonder aloud, "I need to figga out how I'm gon' annoy and disturb the bus passengers taday? What can I ramble on loudly about... Hm, let me see-eee" ???? Methinks you do.
Listen, shut the HELL up, because everytime you go proselytizing and preaching about whatever it is you deem necessary to yell about, you effing put ME in a bad mood, and I have to re-route and reshuffle my own thoughts prior to my arrival at work. I pity the fool co-worker who has be within earshot of your nonsense, because I'm sure your fuckery spills over off the bus and within the confines of your place of employment.
Shut it!

January 16, 2007

Home Alone

Recently I watched a film called Sugar- directed by Reynold Reynolds and starring Samara Golden- on DVD. Sugar first appeared at the Sundance Film Festival in 2005 and due to it being sold out, I didn't get the opportunity to see it then. It had limited distribution, and is finally out on DVD. So I was looking forward to seeing it. Sugar is an acquired taste. It's very dark and at times, unnerving, but it's definitely an interesting study. It was reminiscent of Roman Polanski's Repulsion, starring Catherine Deneuve. Both films star young women, living or left home alone in a large city, to face their fears. Their fears seem to overwhelm them, as they slowly unravel. Every sound, every shadow, slowly but surely causing them to come undone as they become prisoners to their solitude. I live alone, and I enjoy it most times. These past few days, I stayed in. I've become a bit of a homebody, not needing to (or feeling like) going out or socializing, but my cabin fever has started to get to me, so I went out in the frigid weather today. I touched on the slight horrors of living alone a little bit, before. Two nights ago, I heard someone walk by my door, keys jingling, and I jumped up and watched the crack underneath every fifteen minutes or so. Every little sound or creak started to affect me. I swore I saw a shadow stop underneath the crack of my door... I know it didn't, but I felt there was a presence there... a slight cessation in front of my door. I put on my headphones, and listened to some Amy Winehouse on my MP3 player... to drown out the barely audible sounds, I imagined? I was soaking in the bath last night, and everytime I heard someone walk past my door, I felt myself lose it, just a little bit. Every so often, I'd lean outside the side of the tub, just to check. Finally I just pushed my bathroom door shut, lit a Patchouli incense stick, and pulled my shower curtain closed. This was the only way I could enjoy my warm, late night bath. I'm not one of those people who requires a roommate or a live- in other. I enjoy my privacy, but having seen these films... about these solitary young women, living alone, in an urban area... I think I truly get it and I felt what these characters were experiencing. One floor above me, I hear this strange squeaking noise (even now as I type this) at odd moments throughout the early and then late evening. It's definitely not a bed, weighed down by two oversexed lovers, but it sounds like a weird contraption of some sort. Like a heavy piece of machinery. I don't know if I'm directly below the laundry room or if someone has decided they like to work with this mysterious piece of machinery when they feel so inclined to do so. It's a sound one might hear in a boiler room or basement. I sleep with my fan turned to the highest setting (despite the cold weather)... its sound is similar to white noise and it drowns out that squeaking sound... it's the only way I seem to be able to sleep these days. These feelings of "repulsion" contribute to my sudden insomnia, as of late. That and restless thoughts. Last night was a fitful sleep. I woke this morning, tangled in my bedsheets, agitated and unrested. Sometimes it's scary and it's downright discomfiting. As I wrote in a recent post, I'm very observant of the minutiae, and it can be rather annoying at times. I miss the days when I slept like a corps and was oblivious to any and all things occurring outside. I'm reminded of a time, once as a teenager, when the house next door caught on fire and neighboring residents had to evacuate. I practically slept through the whole thing, and my mother had to practically slap me, to get me to wake up and out the door.