Walking to work the other day, from Hayes Valley to 5th and Howard where the Good Vibrations offices are located, I passed more than one nodded-out soul drifting along. I commend you all to the recently-posted sort-of-salutary comments on meth posted on December’s Meth Day entry, but drugs affect plenty of people in a problematic way, and nowhere is it so noticeable as in SOMA the morning the sugar daddy has been through. One guy was not nodding, though… he was going the other direction for sure, muttering and pacing around enough to take up pretty much the whole sidewalk. It was right outside the chi-chi new market at 8th and Howard, which must be a mindfuck of a place for homeless folks to hang out, like outside the pet shop would be to a love-starved little kid whose parents won’t allow a puppy.
So this one guy was not just taking up space: I saw that he was bumping into people on purpose. Not just any people: women. I cut a berth around him and didn’t get hit, but the women plugged into iPods and lost in conversation got shouldered roughly. Whatthe? A misogynist? Or was this as close to female contact as this poor nasty guy usually gets?
Of course, random females rarely wish to be the only female contact for random guys, especially this way. “Fuck you!” they yelled at him. “Fucker!”
Sigh. Fucking, which can be the nicest thing in the world, again used as an epithet having zero to do with erotic experience: instead, as shorthand for angry and violent sentiments. No freakin’ *wonder* the country is in dire straits. More good fucking (wanking too, of course) and there would be less energy by far for so many of the ills our mixed-up polity seems heir to: kicking Yale a capella singers, Abu Ghraib torture, extreme rendition… I could make the list longer, but it’d just be depressing. And even when actions don’t become physical, there are the words. And that, of course, just makes me think of Ann Coulter.
|Photo from TIme Magazine|