last night was another insomnia night. awake from 4am-ish to after 5. getting up this morning super sucked. plus i had really weird dreams including one where i thought i had actually been awake all night and it was 4am, so i just decided to stay up all night. (this, by the way, is not what one could refer to as restful sleep. if you're dreaming that you've been awake all night, when you wake up, you really feel like you've been frickin' awake.) and another dream where i'm not really sure what was going on but i remember thinking 'geez, i really don't want to die' so..... i guess that's good? i don't want to die. good. nice to know.
went out to a show at thee parkside last night, despite not having a single damn (dammed?) soul to join me. i really felt like going, so i went. at the 22 bus stop (which i had to wait at for like 25 min for the bus to arrive. lame.) some drunk homeless woman started yelling at me from across the street. she asked the red haired chick sitting next to me to get my attention and then asked what i was doing. waiting for the bus, i tell her. she claims several buses have gone by, but she's also drinking something out of a paper bag and doesn't appear to have a place to live so any information from her is suspect. she introduces herself, says her names trisha, still yelling across the street. i tell her my name, say it's nice to meet you, and shrug at the red-haired chick next to me who is giggling a little. hey, i hang out at bloody 16th & mission. this is by no means my first altercation with a drunk, homeless person. at least she's not a crackhead, right?
gimmie a dollar, trisha yells. sorry, i don't got a buck, i tell her. (yes, i did have a buck. i had several. however, they were all earmarked for pbr. my pbr). gimmie a buck, or you won't make it home tonight, she shrieks at me.
now, what happened here? i humored her. wasn't disrespectful or anything. but, gimmie a buck or you won't make it home tonight? really?
do not fucking threaten me, i yell back at her. that is totally not acceptable! i start up a conversation with Red and her two male friends so as to ignore whatever trisha is yelling at me while casually transferring my celly phone and lighter to my purse and putting pepper spray in the pocket of my hoodie. she gets up, i tell Red, and comes over here, you gimmie a heads up.
Red doesn't notice when trisha comes across the street to greet another drunk who is passing by. we all notice when trisha steps up to me and firmly smacks me on the ass.
do. not. fucking. touch. me. i am instantaneous in my reaction. there is no hesitation. my right hand hovers around my pocket. that is not okay. i don't know you and you do not get to put your fucking hands on me!
trisha reaches out her hand to shake, i'm trisha, she says, like now it's all okay 'cause we've been formally acquainted. yeah, i got it, i tell her. we're good, i say firmly. she walks away. i look at Red and the Two Boys, i can't believe that i have to go home and tell my roommates that i got smacked on the ass by a homeless woman, i tell them. they invite me to the gold cane for drinks, but i'm on my way to the show.
i get to the show, have a shot of tequilla, and three beers. watch the band, strike up conversations with a few folks (mike, and dan-o, holler.) and share a cab home. it's not a bad night, but in the end i spent like $30 to drink by myself, watch a band i'd seen before, and have conversations with people who i may never, ever see again. it kinda felt... like a million other nights. nothing special, you know?
in the morning, between the sleep deprivation, the pms (and goddamn does that suck. i feel wierd and sick and really emotional. lame.), the weird dreams, and the weird night, all i want is to lay in bed with someone wrapped around me and feel comfort.
all i really need is a damn good hug and no one is around.
went out to a show at thee parkside last night, despite not having a single damn (dammed?) soul to join me. i really felt like going, so i went. at the 22 bus stop (which i had to wait at for like 25 min for the bus to arrive. lame.) some drunk homeless woman started yelling at me from across the street. she asked the red haired chick sitting next to me to get my attention and then asked what i was doing. waiting for the bus, i tell her. she claims several buses have gone by, but she's also drinking something out of a paper bag and doesn't appear to have a place to live so any information from her is suspect. she introduces herself, says her names trisha, still yelling across the street. i tell her my name, say it's nice to meet you, and shrug at the red-haired chick next to me who is giggling a little. hey, i hang out at bloody 16th & mission. this is by no means my first altercation with a drunk, homeless person. at least she's not a crackhead, right?
gimmie a dollar, trisha yells. sorry, i don't got a buck, i tell her. (yes, i did have a buck. i had several. however, they were all earmarked for pbr. my pbr). gimmie a buck, or you won't make it home tonight, she shrieks at me.
now, what happened here? i humored her. wasn't disrespectful or anything. but, gimmie a buck or you won't make it home tonight? really?
do not fucking threaten me, i yell back at her. that is totally not acceptable! i start up a conversation with Red and her two male friends so as to ignore whatever trisha is yelling at me while casually transferring my celly phone and lighter to my purse and putting pepper spray in the pocket of my hoodie. she gets up, i tell Red, and comes over here, you gimmie a heads up.
Red doesn't notice when trisha comes across the street to greet another drunk who is passing by. we all notice when trisha steps up to me and firmly smacks me on the ass.
do. not. fucking. touch. me. i am instantaneous in my reaction. there is no hesitation. my right hand hovers around my pocket. that is not okay. i don't know you and you do not get to put your fucking hands on me!
trisha reaches out her hand to shake, i'm trisha, she says, like now it's all okay 'cause we've been formally acquainted. yeah, i got it, i tell her. we're good, i say firmly. she walks away. i look at Red and the Two Boys, i can't believe that i have to go home and tell my roommates that i got smacked on the ass by a homeless woman, i tell them. they invite me to the gold cane for drinks, but i'm on my way to the show.
i get to the show, have a shot of tequilla, and three beers. watch the band, strike up conversations with a few folks (mike, and dan-o, holler.) and share a cab home. it's not a bad night, but in the end i spent like $30 to drink by myself, watch a band i'd seen before, and have conversations with people who i may never, ever see again. it kinda felt... like a million other nights. nothing special, you know?
in the morning, between the sleep deprivation, the pms (and goddamn does that suck. i feel wierd and sick and really emotional. lame.), the weird dreams, and the weird night, all i want is to lay in bed with someone wrapped around me and feel comfort.
all i really need is a damn good hug and no one is around.
posted by DameRight at 11:38 AM
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