Thursday, August 30, 2007

I’ve seen the old lady every day now for the past two weeks. Always at around five, sitting on the same park bench, wearing the same long winter coat and rolled brimmed winter hat. And I wonder the same thing every time I see her. Who is she waiting for, or at least, who does she think she’s waiting for ? She’s homeless obviously, but not begging. Perhaps dementia has taken full toll and she no longer knows how to do even that. Paris is full of these people. Lost souls who’ve long given up trying. Some so far gone that they loudly curse the world in near gibberish while they root through the metro trash bins, picking out rappers, crushed bottles and newspapers so as to hurl them around the vicinity. One particularly portly lady did just this, and while still cursing the world, lifted her dress and lowered her underwear in a gesture so fast that it took me completely by surprise. I recoiled at the sight of her unkempt posterior. It shocks nobody else in this strange underground world. Drones, moving about under the city like bees in a hive. The isolation in this city is enough to drive anyone mad. People are everywhere, but friendly faces are rare, and conversation is practically non existent.
The old lady on the park bench stares at her reflection in the window of the office building across from her and adjusts her hat and winter coat. It’s twenty degrees and sunny. I start to wonder how long I’ve been here now. The days blend into one and other and an unproductive routine develops. This is the alienation of the west in full force. My apartment is small and the window looks out onto a small enclosed courtyard. I am a hamster in a cage and I’ve willingly shut myself in.
Not to worry. This is an experiment. Now’s the time I should be working on my writing or future projects anyway…I have the material now. The problem is that I can’t seem to motivate myself to sit and write something that I like. Strange type of pre-writer writers block. I wander down to the Sen in search of stimulation, but apart from the odd idea here and there, nothing concrete has leaped from my fingers to the blank computer screen. Nothing has taken shape…but something is definitely forming.
As for the job search, a few options may have popped up. I’ve squandered far too much time already and should be making money. My hopes are that when my cousin and his girlfriend get back, she can get me a position on a film set (be it just to observe or as a coffee slinger). Possible video store work perhaps, and an interview for a real estate service of sorts tomorrow. Something does need to happen soon however, or I fear that I might end up in the metro, my underwear at my ankles, flinging trash and yelling about the government, or even worse, sitting on a park bench with a snow suit and rolled brimmed hat waiting for Godot.