My mornings are most precious to me:
at early hours I travel enlightened, by bike, by bus, by train. I dance through
flocks of eery people who fear their days, loathe their
enslavement till 5 pm. There are some exceptions: people who seem to glow with
purple delight, not unlike
barney, but brighter. These must be tourists: their necks are somewhat bent under
the weight of their cameras and they speak in the most exotic tongues, jealously I watch their mouths move ((so rapidly)).
Skipping down the hall of Den Haag Central Station I ran into Dead Guy. Now you have to understand that Dead Guy is not really a dead guy, but a wonderful, homeless guy who smells sickening. I first met him about 2 years ago, I bought one of his papers and we smoked a cigarette together while I waited for my train. It was freezing cold back then, that much I remember, and I also remember that he turned out to be a nice chap who would greet me every morning from then, untill he disappeared in June 2000 or thereabouts.
I honestly admit I had totally forgotten about Dead Guy, but he hadn't forgotten about me and while I was busy running into him he grabbed me, slew me, burnt me and offered me a cigarette. I quit smoking centuries ago but when people want to talk it's polite to smoke along. He told me that he had spent a year in Belgium and was eventually kicked out, when he got back in Holland he discovered that a friend of him had drowned, and that he was now busy looking for stuff. What that stuff was, he couldn't define. We departed and later I saw him waltzing down the horizon, sometimes collecting a piece of trash from the street, and his little waltz steps seemed light and happy even from such a great distance.
Time for a flashback. Yesterday night was horrible! So, I went out with the guy whose name I won't mention, let's call him Puffy. I always sort of pitied Puffy, he's got a nasty life and two stupid dogs. Oh, how romantic our petite restaurant, how sweet the food and how insanely annoying the two dogs he brought along. I actually spent the entire night running after dogs, trying to keep them from barking and protecting my food. Puffy seemed to have a great time, giggling he removed dog puke from his shoes while loudly bragging about his dogs and the prizes they had won. The absurdity of the situation only escalated when Puffy tried to walk me home and his dogs ran away, so he disappeared into the night shouting for his stupid dogs. Blissfully I entered my home to be greeted by my two smart cats.
Hurray, time for my lunch break! To see colleagues eat fish sticks is immense fun, you won't believe how many fish sticks they manage to stick into their mouths at the same time. (Current record is eight fish sticks, I tell ye. Eight fish sticks!).