This isn’t the bus mentioned below, it’s the busted up rear-view of a friend’s hatchback
Been trying to hack kottu.org into some shape, semi-successful. I feel bad leaving Marco’s excellent Gregarius, but I think kottu needs something different from a straight feedreader. Gregarius does that job, and well. I’m still trying to replace some innovative techniques he’s used – like automatic refreshing and instant tagging. Anyways, while staring at 12 intractable problems at once I decided I needed to go swimming. I just wanted to be underwater. Caught the 177 to the Colombo Plaza.
Walk in, cool breeze smack you in the face. And the girls are different. Cleaner, better dressed, and bitch hot. Attractive women, especially willfully attractive women have power over me and I don’t like it. Now my attraction is followed in short order by fear, jealousy, and anger. By the time I walk by I think my expression is more disgust than anything. I don’t like the whole system, and I don’t like how superficial I am. It takes me at least a week to see a woman as a ‘person’, and I’m actually trying. I wonder how other men are.
Anyways, I’m underwater. I’d bring a snorkel and flippers if that was socially acceptable, but the kids would laugh at me. When I am old and stop caring I definitely will. As is I’m wearing goggles to avoid the searing eyeball pain. My crapped out retinas can only focus 2 feet in front of me, but I’ll be damned if I don’t love the blur. Underwater it’s quiet and blue and my body doesn’t feel like anything at all. There’s some lady doing serious laps perpendicular to me, and I slow down to just watch her bubble trail go by. I like the bubbles. I like breathing them out. Makes me feel like I’m somehow getting more air. I would like a pool with underwater track lighting, copious bubbles, and I would like to wear a snorkel and flippers. I will build this place and call it Neverland. Bring your kids.
Sitting out I put my glasses on and off and remember when I first saw all the leaves on the trees. When I first got glasses I remember stepping out into the sun and being absolutely amazed that this one ginko tree was so complicated. It was like 18 million beautiful little things in the noonday sun. Now it’s dusk and I have no idea what this particular tree is. I sit and watch a half-naga Japanese man change obliviously in his room across the way. Entertaining enough. I’m not hot, it’s quiet, and it’s quite beautiful here between the hotel, bar and trees. As if to puncture this moment I call a girl who brings me down, but I felt like I needed to make that call.
On the way out I pass a fit girl in a pink skirt. Again I feel tricked, and I can’t help but look back in the window on the way out. I leave the little oasis of Western Civ and go to the bus station. The last A/C bus is gone but there’s one normal 177 leaving. I’ve mastered sleeping until Rajagiriya, but not in the aisle seat. I hate the aisle. It gets crowded and I don’t know how to say, ‘Get your nuts off my shoulder’ in Sinhala. The cool of the pool wears off and I get that thin film of sweat again. Every other day I leave the hotel, get back on the bus and bounce with all the shit. Or, to quote:
I have dreams of fucking an R&B bitch,
But I wake up every morning and bounce with all the shit
50 Cent (How To Rob an Industry Nigga)