When I Leave My House

December 5, 2013 § Leave a comment

In my post two days ago, I mentioned a ten day streak spent eating, sleeping and watching t.v. on my lovely couch that I love very much. I thought I might explain.
It was a fairly disgusting business. I was drunk for four days straight out of the ten. I ate excessive amounts of Oreo cookies and fried chicken. My hair got so greasy from not showering that it spiked on the top of my head. My armpits smelled like feet. I looked pale and unhealthy. Numbness eventually settled in, as planned. 
By the eigth day, I was running out of food and booze. The situation was getting desperate. I had to go out. I showered and got dressed and went out into the light. It was unpleasant and everything and everyone seemed like they were yelling at me, the cars, the people, the excessive brightness of the sun. I felt flush from the five minute walk to the bus stop. After all, I had just spent eight days avoiding all but the most necessary activity. I walked laboriously only from my couch to the fridge and back and from my couch to the toilet and back.
I took the 68 bus to St Clair Avenue and the liquor store near it. Even more disturbing was that it was packed at 2 in the afternoon. I shoved my way to a seat upfront. At the third stop, a very old man with a cane stepped into the bus, slowly. Since no one moved to help him, I felt compelled to offer him my seat after what was probably a little too long a hesitation.
Despite that lapse, he said in what I assumed to be an Italian accent, “Oh my dear. Please stay seated. You are very lovely.” Then he did something surprising. He touched my cheek. Gently.
My face felt flush again. This time it wasn’t because of the all the activity.

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