She's got her own world in the city...
There's a girl who lives in my vast, despairingly lifeless apartment complex, and who loiters at the west exit by the drained municipal pond. I see her there often. I call her Unreasonable Request Girl. She usually begins her conversation with you--at normal, indoor volume--from a distance of about 35-40 feet. This in itself is unreasonable. The first time I saw her, it went like this:
"Have you seen Korea?" We were about 20 feet apart still so I assumed I'd misheard her.
"What?"
"Have you seen Korea?"
"I don't think so."
"Korea is a cat."
"Oh."
"I think she went in there," she said, pointing to the drained pond, which is ringed by a black chain link fence and decorated with STAY OUT signs.
"Well, you better wait for her to come back out," I said, trying to terminate our conversation so I could get to the computer lab and post some boring bullshit on Livejournal.
"Help me get her," she said.
I tried to ignore her.
"Help me get her," she said again, her voice unwavering, never rising or falling, even as I faded into the distance.
Finally she gave up, and I gave one glance back over my shoulder to see her wriggling through the locked gate around the pond and into the distinctly off-limits area beyond. "Um," I said quietly, lifting one finger as if I had a point of order to make.
Now, every time I see her it's something new. No preamble, no introductions, no how-are-you-Ben, how's-the-wife, just: "Can you fix my bike?" "What's the diameter of the earth?" "Will you buy me a baseball?"
Today she appeared from yard in front of her building, clad in what appeared to be a toddler cheerleading outfit (Go North Olympia Swing Kings!), barefoot asking if I knew where David was. I had a pretty good guess where David was: first, probably a gerbil, and second, most certainly lost in the bone-dry grass surrounding the municipal pond. But all I said was no, no, I don't, and then gently: "I don't know who that is."
"He's my uncle. He was riding his skateboard and I don't know where he went."
To commit suicide, obviously. "Well, I'm sure he'll turn up soon," I said.
Then, from a distance of about fifty feet, I hear, faintly: "Can you dig this rock up?"
But I must continue on. Ignore that. No time for digging up rocks. The mere request of such an action must be recorded on Livejournal. That is my mission, and it must take precedence.
In other news, I saw Batman Begins. It sucked. Plain and simple. Terrible. The acting was poor (Christian Bale is as lifeless and unlikable an actor as I've seen. Is he related to Keanu, do you suppose?), except by the indefatigable Michael Caine. Morgan Freeman was fine, though his character (Lucius "The Same Fucking Guy Morgan Freeman Always Plays" Fox) was stock and unoriginal. The film was very badly paced, with the build-up taking most of the movie, and the actual conflict being so convoluted and, well, lame, that it leaves the viewer hoping that Bruce Wayne will be struck by a bus and the credits will roll. The script seemed passable, but it was constantly undercut by Chris Nolan's nonsensical directing. And guess what? They're making a trilogy!
Sorry, just had to get that off my chest. This post is long, I know, but Computer is dead (the memorial service has been postponed indefinitely as I enter a protracted legal battle with medical science regarding whether or not Computer can (and should) be resurrected), so I have to cram in all the topics I can. Now, I'm outta here.
"Have you seen Korea?" We were about 20 feet apart still so I assumed I'd misheard her.
"What?"
"Have you seen Korea?"
"I don't think so."
"Korea is a cat."
"Oh."
"I think she went in there," she said, pointing to the drained pond, which is ringed by a black chain link fence and decorated with STAY OUT signs.
"Well, you better wait for her to come back out," I said, trying to terminate our conversation so I could get to the computer lab and post some boring bullshit on Livejournal.
"Help me get her," she said.
I tried to ignore her.
"Help me get her," she said again, her voice unwavering, never rising or falling, even as I faded into the distance.
Finally she gave up, and I gave one glance back over my shoulder to see her wriggling through the locked gate around the pond and into the distinctly off-limits area beyond. "Um," I said quietly, lifting one finger as if I had a point of order to make.
Now, every time I see her it's something new. No preamble, no introductions, no how-are-you-Ben, how's-the-wife, just: "Can you fix my bike?" "What's the diameter of the earth?" "Will you buy me a baseball?"
Today she appeared from yard in front of her building, clad in what appeared to be a toddler cheerleading outfit (Go North Olympia Swing Kings!), barefoot asking if I knew where David was. I had a pretty good guess where David was: first, probably a gerbil, and second, most certainly lost in the bone-dry grass surrounding the municipal pond. But all I said was no, no, I don't, and then gently: "I don't know who that is."
"He's my uncle. He was riding his skateboard and I don't know where he went."
To commit suicide, obviously. "Well, I'm sure he'll turn up soon," I said.
Then, from a distance of about fifty feet, I hear, faintly: "Can you dig this rock up?"
But I must continue on. Ignore that. No time for digging up rocks. The mere request of such an action must be recorded on Livejournal. That is my mission, and it must take precedence.
In other news, I saw Batman Begins. It sucked. Plain and simple. Terrible. The acting was poor (Christian Bale is as lifeless and unlikable an actor as I've seen. Is he related to Keanu, do you suppose?), except by the indefatigable Michael Caine. Morgan Freeman was fine, though his character (Lucius "The Same Fucking Guy Morgan Freeman Always Plays" Fox) was stock and unoriginal. The film was very badly paced, with the build-up taking most of the movie, and the actual conflict being so convoluted and, well, lame, that it leaves the viewer hoping that Bruce Wayne will be struck by a bus and the credits will roll. The script seemed passable, but it was constantly undercut by Chris Nolan's nonsensical directing. And guess what? They're making a trilogy!
Sorry, just had to get that off my chest. This post is long, I know, but Computer is dead (the memorial service has been postponed indefinitely as I enter a protracted legal battle with medical science regarding whether or not Computer can (and should) be resurrected), so I have to cram in all the topics I can. Now, I'm outta here.