(no subject)
I was late arriving to my apartment. Normally I would have taken the stairs, but for whatever reason today they were out of order and i was left with option to reach my humble 40th floor apartment; the elevator. The stairs had always allowed me to get a little bit of exercise and allowed me to make less awkward aquaintances than the elevator would surely provide. No, I am not anti-social, just anti-circumstance. In The elevator I was a victim to my surroundings, there would be no escape from the people who surrounded me. It's impossible to know the history of anyone, now imagine being mere inches from people who reek not of no only BO, but murder, sexual deviancies, and sheer adequacy. What if the elevator were to have difficulties and stop for a good chunk of time? Be stuck with all those rif raf? I think not. I dont want to get carried away, but elevators fall, though not often, they do. Sure millions and millions people will ride them daily, but circumstance, circumestance, circumstance. Who would be the one to tell the heavy set man it'd be better to wait for the next? Surely not I. The stairs allowed some room for choice. Did i want to take a nice leisurley climb? Or did i want to skip one, two, or even three at a time? If I was feeling ambitious I could make a mad dash to the stop, hopefully not tackling anyone coming down. Yet it was rare I saw a soul in the building aside from the Lobby, which was filled with people rushing to somewhere that'd I'd never see. The fact that something existed in which I'd never be apart of made me slightly upset. Like seeing happy couples on the street or even a friend settle down with a new romance. It wasn't so much you didn't agree with what was happening, but rather it was doused with a slight bit of spite, though I'd never know if they were happier, or worse off than me, I felt it was better to spite for the sake of it. Art for the sake of art, writing for the sake of writing, and spite for the sake of spite, why not?!
I often tell myself, Lensky, be reasonable, you know nothing about them and it works for an hour than drifting off into my warped reality i find myself disecting and slapping stickers on everyone about me, each with their own little story.
There was a group of 6 standing waiting for the elevator to go up. Of these six I knew none and felt a little safer knowing that small talk was completely out of the question. How often had I struggled to get out of talk about dull jobs or someone dear grandmama knitting a wool scarf for them in south carolina, and how after my replies the silence attacked my ears. The only gesture or communication I could find was shrugging my shoulders in a futile attempt to get them to be on their way or let me be on mine. I'm sorry, but what do people expect or what aren't they seeing that I so blatantly do? Well what I saw and everyone else waiting around were the elevator doors opening. Somehow I managed my way to the corner so i wouldn't have to deal with buttons while be surrounded by fewer people than the unluck person in the middle. All those eyes peering at them, judging them, failing them. Awful to think that I'm no different than anyone else in some aspects.
We were all settled and the rush for floors began, 5, 9, 19, 27, 35, 39. I decided not to push a button so i could me wait until everyone was off so i wouldnt have to disclose my information there was simply no telling who my companions were.
The person who pressed 5 was a middle aged man dressed in a black suit accomponied by a blue tie. The brief case he held was black leather. Briefcases are enigmatic. There's no telling what can be inside. Perhaps it held the latest John Grisham novel, such men needed an easy source of entertainment, they work so hard! Perhaps it contained the grains of sand and seashells, or what I would carry around if I had a suitcase, nothing! Just to make people like myself guess as to what they contain. Yes it's easy to assume there are papers, pens, memorandum, hell even a bomb, but nothing! Suitcase for suitcase sake! Why not.
The fifth floor was reached. The man got off and took with him the secrets he held both in and out of his suitcase. No one got on. I couldn't think of a reason why anyone would.
6 of us were left. Not a word had been uttered yet. I looked around and saw everyone making holes in the walls with their eyes. Number 9 was an older lady, maybe mid 60's, hair begining to grey but still thick. She wore a plain blue dress which appeared to be made of cotton. She had a red purse made of a faux leather, in the other hand she held a black plastic bag. The contents were well hidden. 19 was standing with his hands in his pocket with one foot against the wall, real cool. Listening to some music which he was considerate enough to let us all vaguely hear. He wore a backwords cap and had a stud in his ear which was suppose to appear to be a diamond, but there's no way he would be living in a place like this with a diamond that big. That's not to say the place was a dump however, if you could afford a rock that big you could afford a place much larger. I stopped analyzing him and looked at my shoes which were worn and begining to fall apart. I needed a job, but I simply hadn't the time to...
The elevator stopped rather abrubtly, nonetheless we had arrived at our next stop and 9 got off, but the most pecular thing happend and 39 got off just as the doors were about to close. I never got a good look at the rather tall man, about 6,2 if I'm any good at guessing. Perhaps it was something urgent he forgot in the lobby, perhaps he wanted to check on the stairs (maybe he didn't know they were out of order) or perhaps he was off to rob the older lady! People aren't so frightening on the outside. Once you clear through all the bullshit, you can truly be terrified.
I wondered what the others were thinking about the old lady and the other man's improptu departure. Had they even noticed? None of them had budged and inch but 19's song had changed. Which one of them was analyzing me and what did they find wrong? Were my pants too raggity? Was my hair too long? Too messy? Or perhaps I was one of those kids who tried too hard to be non-chalant. What were they thinking of each other? I'm sure 19 didn't rank to high with 27 or 35. They were both past their prime and like their counterpart 5 were dressed in suites. 35's was tan and 27's was teal. Surpisingly they weren't speaking jargon I had always asociated with men of their type.
I often tell myself, Lensky, be reasonable, you know nothing about them and it works for an hour than drifting off into my warped reality i find myself disecting and slapping stickers on everyone about me, each with their own little story.
There was a group of 6 standing waiting for the elevator to go up. Of these six I knew none and felt a little safer knowing that small talk was completely out of the question. How often had I struggled to get out of talk about dull jobs or someone dear grandmama knitting a wool scarf for them in south carolina, and how after my replies the silence attacked my ears. The only gesture or communication I could find was shrugging my shoulders in a futile attempt to get them to be on their way or let me be on mine. I'm sorry, but what do people expect or what aren't they seeing that I so blatantly do? Well what I saw and everyone else waiting around were the elevator doors opening. Somehow I managed my way to the corner so i wouldn't have to deal with buttons while be surrounded by fewer people than the unluck person in the middle. All those eyes peering at them, judging them, failing them. Awful to think that I'm no different than anyone else in some aspects.
We were all settled and the rush for floors began, 5, 9, 19, 27, 35, 39. I decided not to push a button so i could me wait until everyone was off so i wouldnt have to disclose my information there was simply no telling who my companions were.
The person who pressed 5 was a middle aged man dressed in a black suit accomponied by a blue tie. The brief case he held was black leather. Briefcases are enigmatic. There's no telling what can be inside. Perhaps it held the latest John Grisham novel, such men needed an easy source of entertainment, they work so hard! Perhaps it contained the grains of sand and seashells, or what I would carry around if I had a suitcase, nothing! Just to make people like myself guess as to what they contain. Yes it's easy to assume there are papers, pens, memorandum, hell even a bomb, but nothing! Suitcase for suitcase sake! Why not.
The fifth floor was reached. The man got off and took with him the secrets he held both in and out of his suitcase. No one got on. I couldn't think of a reason why anyone would.
6 of us were left. Not a word had been uttered yet. I looked around and saw everyone making holes in the walls with their eyes. Number 9 was an older lady, maybe mid 60's, hair begining to grey but still thick. She wore a plain blue dress which appeared to be made of cotton. She had a red purse made of a faux leather, in the other hand she held a black plastic bag. The contents were well hidden. 19 was standing with his hands in his pocket with one foot against the wall, real cool. Listening to some music which he was considerate enough to let us all vaguely hear. He wore a backwords cap and had a stud in his ear which was suppose to appear to be a diamond, but there's no way he would be living in a place like this with a diamond that big. That's not to say the place was a dump however, if you could afford a rock that big you could afford a place much larger. I stopped analyzing him and looked at my shoes which were worn and begining to fall apart. I needed a job, but I simply hadn't the time to...
The elevator stopped rather abrubtly, nonetheless we had arrived at our next stop and 9 got off, but the most pecular thing happend and 39 got off just as the doors were about to close. I never got a good look at the rather tall man, about 6,2 if I'm any good at guessing. Perhaps it was something urgent he forgot in the lobby, perhaps he wanted to check on the stairs (maybe he didn't know they were out of order) or perhaps he was off to rob the older lady! People aren't so frightening on the outside. Once you clear through all the bullshit, you can truly be terrified.
I wondered what the others were thinking about the old lady and the other man's improptu departure. Had they even noticed? None of them had budged and inch but 19's song had changed. Which one of them was analyzing me and what did they find wrong? Were my pants too raggity? Was my hair too long? Too messy? Or perhaps I was one of those kids who tried too hard to be non-chalant. What were they thinking of each other? I'm sure 19 didn't rank to high with 27 or 35. They were both past their prime and like their counterpart 5 were dressed in suites. 35's was tan and 27's was teal. Surpisingly they weren't speaking jargon I had always asociated with men of their type.