I'm no angel. Now when I say that I don't mean it in a coy 'I am a dark and dangerous type', way cause the truth is that I am a cowardly custard. If I were to have a shield or insignia of some kind it would have to be of a cringing chicken.
No, when I say 'I'm no angel', I mean that for the most part I am emotionally exhausted and morally bankrupt. For example I dig porn. I like German gothic dungeon porn, I like Russian naked vodka porn, I like South African apartheid porn, I like Dutch pot porn and I like Cambodian Pol Pot porn.
It seems, however, that I give out 'vibes' to people. These people then use these 'vibes' to take my jobs and my women. Ok, I lied, no one wants to employ me and I will certainly never know the touch of a woman. I thought I did once but it turned out that it was, in fact, a wombat. On the plus side there's only three years left on my eight year ban from the local zoo.
To make my point clearer, I've got a couple of examples for you. Keep in mind that these examples are all completely true.
This occurred back in my second year of high school. I was waiting patiently at the canteen for whatever I was going to clog my arteries with that day (although I've recently been informed that hard arteries are strong arteries), when this guy started cutting in front of me. Now, I didn't say anything for two reasons:= I'm a cowardly custard;
= Outside of my cowardice I also tend to dislike violence;
= Frankly, I could stand to wait another minute or two for whatever garbage I was buying;
= It looks like I used three points instead of two.
So anyhoo, this guy is trying to cut in. His friend stops him, gestures to me and tells him "Oh, leave him alone, he hasn't got any friends".
You can imagine what this does to a person. I mean I thought I had friends. Could it be that these two complete strangers had cottoned on to the fact that the people I thought were friends were, in fact, not my friends. My paranoia aside (which was substantial in that I kept trying to buy friends with cacti and other lame desert dwelling plants), the fact is that I seemed to radiate a 'vibe' of friendlessness.
This occurred about a year ago. I like the colour orange. I have a pair of orange (I have heard them described as russet (yellowish brown, light brown, or reddish brown (according to Random House Webster's College Dictionary))) shorts / three quarter pants. I was also wearing a black t-shirt. Now I wasn't badly dressed and I certainly didn't look as if I needed the I.M.F. to bail me out of a financial crisis (not that I'd trust those leeches anyways).
AT ANY RATE... I was waiting outside of a train station for two friends (incidentally one of those was Jimmy Weasel of The Wax Conspiracy fame) and I was sitting on a small wall. To my right and a bit further down were two bums. To my left the road turned the corner and disappeared under a bridge. As I'm waiting for my friends two more bums turn the corner at my left where the road disappeared and started walking in my direction.
Now these new bums were a bit worse off than the original pair. Not only had these people been screwed over by poverty they also looks as if they'd fallen out of the heroin tree and had hit every branch on the way down and as they hit a branch it had injected more heroin into their eyes. They looked like that were in a really bad place. I don't think that they were users at the time but it certainly looked like they had been ravaged by drugs.
Now as they were walking towards me they were asking people for any change. Now I'm not wealthy but I'm not so poor so as I can't give people whatever change I have in my pockets (I was either still employed or had just gotten the arse from my jobs).
Soon there was no one left on the street save for the two new bums the two original bums and me. The two new bums passed me, stopped, looked at me, and then moved onto the two original bums and asked them if they had any change. They clearly thought they had more luck getting money out of a bum than they did from me.
Apparently, amongst the denizens of these ill streets my poverty is so great that I deserve pity and nothing else.
Apparently I seem to give out a 'vibe' of extreme poverty.
This occurred between one and two months ago. I was on my way to the 21st birthday party of a friend (incidentally this was the sister of Jimmy Weasel of The Wax Conspiracy fame). I was waiting at the train station. Waiting for a train no less. This old guy sits down and starts talking to me.
This next bit is the conversation as best as I can remember it (I'll be paraphrasing).
Before we start please note that 'OG' stands for 'Old Guy' and not 'Original Gangsta'.
OG: You live around here?
OG: Campsie used to be a nice place, it's not so nice any more.
ME: It's not so bad.
OG: Were you born here?
ME: No, I was born in Argentina.
OG: Good, you can't trust anyone who was born here.
ME: Uh huh.
OG: I don't know what the government is doing. As if there aren't enough black people here with all the Aboriginals they have to start bringing them in from Africa and Pakistan.
OG: Just try to catch public transport. Wherever you go, there are Asians everywhere.
ME: I really don't see what the problem is
At this point Mr. Bigot McNazi sort of said goodbye, walked away and just kinda looked at me.
And so it seems that I also give out some sort of bigot 'vibe'.
I can't remember where the hell I was going with these examples (which are all true by the by) but in short if you see a friendless, poor, bigot roaming the streets of Sydney don't hit him cause it might be me. Or do hit him on account that he made you sit through this article and it seems that he is now writing in the third person.
Published on Friday, 4 October 2002
I hope that what I have written will be of some assistance.