5:25 p.m. - 2004-11-08
If you get anything out of this then let me know, please.
I wrote this out of boredom and it was just basically on a whim. It's a bit sloppy, but if you don't pay attention to how it was written and more about what it's about, then, well, I don't know. I'd never know if you didn't read it. Just know, it's not even close to what I wanted to write.
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Imagine, if you will, a picture for you�re certain to learn something if you do.
It is 4 am on a Friday morning in a small town on the east coast, and Alex has not yet fallen asleep. To be exact, Alex has not even closed her eyes yet. She drinks her coffee black and sits in an oversized armchair listening to The Smiths and analyzing every syllable that manages to squeak through her decrepit stereo system. Money is scarce these days; it�s going out of style like color and sleep. That is the situation in which we find our new best friend; pale, cloaked in black, weary, and sipping dark, flavorless coffee that has long since been warm, out of a large mug with a chip right above the handle. Onlookers agree that the scene is a pathetic one, but I have temporarily misplaced my sympathy.
You see, this morning I passed a homeless man on my way to work and he was sitting on a corner with his loyal companion of fur. He was asking for money so he could buy his dog some food. The sign did not say anything about his own wellbeing. Some say it was an advertising tactic- more people feel sympathy for animals then for their siblings, but I�d like to give him the benefit of the doubt because I don�t know him and even if I did, I couldn�t prove a thing. The importance of this man does not lie solely in his signs and his loyal companion. I watched this man while I sat across the street eating my bagel and I saw as 5, 6, 7 people stopped to pet his friend and throw a few dollars into his collection. As I got up and threw away my thrash, I watched the man walk into the store nearby and come out with a bag of dog food and dog food only. The remaining few dollars, it must have been around 3 to 5 dollars were carefully taken out of his pocket and he held them tightly in his hand. He quickly walked half a block down the street to where a group of Peace Corps. officials where asking passersby for spare change to go to the benefits of children in Ethiopia who were starving and needed help. He silently dropped his �spare� change into the collection and hurried back to his canine companion. My sympathy lies with this man because he waited until his dog had eaten quite a bit before he reached inside the bag of dog food and took out a handful of the food to eat for his own breakfast. I rarely meet a man as selfless as this man and I could not give up the chance. I searched my pockets for any money I had and came back victorious with a five dollar bill. As I placed the money in the collection, I asked the name of my idol and was answered with a simple �Charles�.
So, you see, my sympathies cannot possible lie with Alex, because I am only allowed to sympathize with one person a day and Charles certainly deserves it today. I am not really limited to empathizing with one person a day, but if I allow more then one sad case a day get to me, it takes over and then I�m not much good to anyone. I know this seems selfish, but I came to terms with it years prior to this brisk autumn day.
Alex cannot have my sympathies today because she is in love with drama and she does not understand why drama can not return her affection. I understand, but she does not. Alex sleeps through the day and wears black. She is also a chain smoker and when she is feeling lonely she goes to one of those corner coffee shops where they always read poetry out loud or have music that actually sounds like conversation with a beat. She slinks around the room, she slinks because she is snakelike and she is too artsy to be a weasel. If she wasn�t so artistic about it, she�d be a weasel, because she slinks around the room until she finds someone who looks lonely enough to fall for her deceiving conversation and pouty look that she makes look natural. There�s always one and they�re always long enough to end her loneliness- for the night at least. She is paid in affection and compliments that they all know she wants to hear. This is why Alex does not sleep at night. Not really. Alex doesn�t sleep at night because she wants something more then she has. After her newest acquaintance leaves, she lights another cigarette and saunters to her closet. She chooses one of her many short black dresses and slips into it and leaves her apartment-unlocked. She never locks her doors, probably because she would love to come home and find her house torn to pieces and a murderer standing there waiting to kill her. Alex sure does love her drama, too bad this will never happen because drama doesn�t love her. She walks through the streets with an attitude that would be impressive if it wasn�t so easy to see through. Her high heels click against the rain splattered pavement, because it has starting to lightly drizzle. Poor Alex, where will she go now? The streets are empty because in modern age, water has become poisonous. She turns the corner and continues in a circle until she reaches her apartment again. She climbs up the fire escape-hoping she�ll wake someone who will want to tell her off, just because she is that desperate for conversation. She climbs through the window and sinks down into her worn down armchair once again and this is where we find her. Alex cannot have my sympathy because she is typical and does the same thing everyday. She is in love with being noticed and loved, but no one really loves her. No one even knows her real name. Her real name is Alexandra and she has brown eyes and when she was younger her favorite color was green and she didn�t like to wear makeup. During the day, she works at home as an insurance agent. It�s too bad that Alex doesn�t appreciate what she was given and it�s sad that she isn�t really happy with whom she is, but she can not have my sympathy today.
Perhaps Alex can have my sympathy tomorrow, but I doubt it. Alex doesn�t want to help herself. She wants to be saved. She wants mystery and drama and a movie. She wants surreal. I think she�s missing out. Reality is more entertaining then anything Alex will ever think up. She could really go and visit Charles and have a conversation with him, because she could really use some conversation and Charles would set her straight.
Charles died yesterday and Alex went on with her daily and �more so- nightly routine. Alex never took my advice and she never went to talk to Charles. Charles died happy and left everything he owned- including his only coat, hat, and the last 5 dollars he was ever given, all to his dog, who happens to be named Muffy. Muffy was taken to the pound, but she sleeps on his coat and nuzzles her nose into his hat. Alex walks by the pound every night in her black dress. She�ll never know Charles� story and maybe someday, that will be reason enough for me to sympathize with her, but not today, because today I have a funeral to go to and I have other people to sympathize with.
