Hey, yo, how is everybody.
Rainy days, Sundays and days out in town, when combined, have a cumulative taste/feel. The rain has an earthy taste, the day itself is grey and slow – like mercury pooling at the bottom of a cold thermometer.
Days at town feel bewildering and enjoyable – in a strange way.
Yesterday was Sunday.
The skies were grey with ominous clouds…
I had to see off my aunt at the coach-station. She was finally leaving after a one-week long stay, her child screaming her head off during every single day. My dad couldn't even sleep – I watched him come downstairs, all bleary-eyed and stuff and going "stupid bloody out-of-control child". 'Twas rather amusing.
Of course, I would have gone to the cinema with Mona, too, if she hadn't cancelled. She keeps cancelling every time… I know her dad is even stricter than my dad, but really! Every single time? Anyway, thanks to that I was feeling awfully disappointed all Saturday (after a curt phone-call to confirm her already suspected cancellation).
So I decided to go and track this cinema down all by myself. For the first time ever in my entire lifetime, I decided to go to the cinema on my own.
It was rather far away, and I stupidly went on foot. For an hour, I trudged along the road (it was in the morning), into increasingly unfamiliar territory. Since it was Sunday, nobody was around. I think I passed one Little League stadium and one of those HUGE football stadiums and the BT advice/repair centre and a MUSEUM before I had to backtrack. And found that the cinema was the building I had passed before on the assumption that it was a factory (due to the large garbage cans situated in front of it). And there weren't any kind of obvious markers. Only reason I managed to find it was on the basis of a hunch, you know, a "been everywhere else already, it wouldn't hurt to try" kind of feeling.
Turns out that the standard fee for adults is £5.90.
I had £5.30, bus fare and din-din included. (I didn't have the heart to ask for more from my mother – we're still on that 'broke like hell' streak.)
'Still,' I thought to myself while sticking my fingers up at the 6-foot 'ODEON' sign, ''Twas an honourable defeat, and I suppose I got to know the town better.'
So I trudge back to the centre of town again, giggling at the painful humiliation of it all, when this muttering lady stands behind me at the crossing lights. 'Ooh,' thinks I, 'Mad person coming through.' Of course, I can't get rid of the paranoid feeling that she's not in fact insane, but is talking about moi.
Turns out I am right. "'Look at me,'" she mocks, "'I'm so sanctimonious with my black clothes, advertising my religion for everybody else!'"
So, for kicks, I follow her and listen to her muttering for a while.
After a while, I turn to confront her and use the infamous line: "Lady, if you've got a problem, please say so."
So she yells at me for (note: certain distasteful words have been omitted) coming to the country, infiltrating the ranks and taking away her jobs, propagating and advertising my religion, blowing up places and voting for Blair to let more bloody Muslims into the country.
And I'm protesting mildly about it, and telling her there's no reason for such language. Then it strikes me, how weird it is that I've just come back from my trip to the Odeon and am now strolling with a lady who is abusing everything that I stand for. So I start giggling, and then laughing really loudly.
She interprets this as me enjoying causing offence to her and to everybody else. I tell her that I don't enjoy causing offence – I am just enjoying her discomfort.
As she walks away into this park and leaves me behind, she screams foul curses at my religion and at my black skin.
Ironically enough, the park she's entering is called 'The Nelson Mandela' park. Which sends me into screaming fits of laughter.
"LOOK AT YOU," she bawls from the distance, "LOOK AT YOU LAUGHING AND SMIRKING ABOUT IT! YOU ENJOY GETTING ON PEOPLE'S NERVES, DON'T YOU!"
I just walked on and waved at her, bidding farewell and whatnot.
'Twas quite, quite amusing.
I realise that in the past, I would have lost my temper and possible jumped her – and I'm glad that I decided to be grown-up about it.
Hmm. I wonder why nobody seems to like my smirk. I think it's very friendly.
Anyway… I walk back to town, through lonely alleys and empty streets. By now it's raining. I really love rainy days – they make me feel all solemn. The air tastes of old petrol, and something else that feels sharp and metallic.
I stop by Forbidden Planet, and read the fourth volume of Kare First Love, finish it and step out into the rain again. The bag I'm clutching has a copy of 'Ico' in it. That's right – the ultra-rare, ultra-special game 'Ico' that I found in the game-store where I had traded-in most of my old games.
Although I had no money, I did earn store-credit of £40 – which paid for my copy of 'Ico'.
Huh. A day that had started with a promise of nothing but bleak hours turned out to offer quite a few interesting moments. Overall, not a bad day, that Sunday yesterday.
Although, because of road blockages near my house, I had to walk for ten minutes in the rain cause the bus couldn't go there, arriving home soaked to the bone.