Equal Opportunities

Yesterday I saw a blind man using a disabled toilet. I didn't know they could do that. I mean I guess it makes sense, lack of sight is quite disabling. But does that mean the deaf can do likewise? If anything I'd have thought it was a bit cruel to give the blind access. I mean, really, a disabled toilet is still the same toilet, just in a much larger room. Hence far more difficult to find. But perhaps permission is granted for the benefit of others. The last thing you want when standing up against the wall is a next door neighbour not even sure which way he's facing.

Tapped

The first time I saw him he was fresh, new, giving, you could tell he felt he had a gift and he wanted to give it, and once the applause had died down, if people dropped a few coins in the blue plastic bag, well that was all well and good.

The second time I noticed a new edge that I would have picked up had it been present before. Now he wasn't dancing so much for the feel of the air as for the feel of the fear. He laid on some paranoid patter that skittered between subjects and betrayed the thoughts of a rambling mind. A layer of fine sweat lay on his skin, and as he went next door to repeat the spiel, you could here the pain in his parroting.

Tonight was the last time I ever saw him. No longer concealing his despair, he pleaded for attention and danced the fool without rhythm or reason. His talk was erratic, his whole presence jittery. I don't know whether the audience was wise to his schtick but the applause was confined to a drunken blonde in the corner, disowned immediately by her lover.

Mr Quippy

Its the constant quipping that gets in the way, the set up and punch that's way below the belt. Create a situation, wait for the obvious and crucify it like you're the messiah. For the performer there is no pride to be taken from here. In essence the score is this: Here is a situation I have manufactured a thousand times, all possible results experienced and documented, yet, I shall allow you to have space and time to interject, and when you are foolish enough to do so, I shall crush you like the ignorant you are. How do you feel? Used.

Born Again

As I lose another year, I am still no closer to learning how to balance the craving for humility with the all-consuming desire of ambition. But at least I get a cake.

Nasti

It starts in the queue, as he pairs us off with pointing fingers. I'm assigned to the longest line, and unhappy with my lot I swap. It's not me he picks on but the Pole with the shaved head to my right. Back to your line, the line attendant barks, a shrimp of a man in a luminous yellow vest. Even though it's not me he's talking to, I can feel the shame rising, hot sticky anger spreading through my gut. I stay, the Pole says, his grasp of English on par with the Yellow Jacket. You don't change lines, the Yellow Jacket shrieks, you do what I say! I stay here, our Pole says, his voice planting his feet so firmly he might as well be pouring concrete over his ankles. Move lines, you move lines, the Yellow Jacket is striding over now, you move lines now! The Pole draws himself up, fills his lungs and bellows back, I stay with family, pushing his voice from his gut and stopping Yellow Jacket mid step. The hall is hushed, silenced, all eyes on the badge carrier. He is deflating under the gazes, he is nothing now and he knows it. This is your family? He asks, in hushed tones. Ok, you stay with family, and then like he's been misunderstood this whole time, he barks another order- you don't change lines!