Monday, April 05, 2004

ágætis byrjun

On the journey into work, there are a few familiar faces I’ve become accustomed to seeing. I like to make up little stories about their owners, try to imagine what’s on their minds, wonder about the last conversation they had before setting off from home, that sort of thing.

In the old blue Volvo, there is Stressed Out Yoga Man. I usually clock him at a particular set off traffic lights. He always looks flustered and when the lights take a long time to change you can see the veins in his neck pulsing. Everything about him yells “Shit! Shit! Shit! I’ve forgotten to pack my stuff for tonight’s yoga class. Now I’ll have to leave work early to fetch it, and I’m late as it is, and I really can’t be leaving early today, what with… Bloody shitting shit!”
His wife is carrying on with the decorator, but he'll be oblivious for months yet. Why does everywhere still smell of paint? They must have finished weeks ago?

There is Beautiful Sad Faced Girl in the silver hatchback. Her blonde hair is immaculately tied up in a French bun. Her make up is understated. She always wears a cream blouse. She is elegant, in an old fashioned kind of way. She likes European art house films.
The last words she heard were from her mother - “It wouldn’t do you any harm if you smiled just once in a while.”
There’s no way I could afford my own place, not on this crappy salary. Ella says we should club together, but I don’t know. I‘m not sure she still loves me the way she used to. It’s killing me.

This morning I saw the Goth Teenagers In Love, walking slowly to school. They talk animatedly, about last week’s Angel, or about this email some creepy guy sent her, or about how music means so much to them it’s untrue. They listen to bands no one else has even heard of. They are doe eyed and baby faced and completely devoted to each other. Their parents know they have slept together and are, you know, cool about it and everything, just be careful, we love you very much, take precautions, you’re still young.

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