The Curse of The Artist

Last Weekend...

Friday was an extremely bizarre and intense day. I missed the bus to class, so Jess and I watched the Creek all morning. All was well until I got downtown and I was walking towards the Greyhoud terminal and I passed this couple who were presumably fighting. I heard them coming from two blocks away. This wasn't a two sided fight though, this was a man screaming at a woman who was walking quietly beside him with her head down. I have never heard such hateful yelling, cursing and name calling. I kept looking around to see what others were doing about it, but no one said anything. The couple was probably in their late twenties, early thirties and they were passing these middle aged people who weren't saying anything. I was scared. He was spitting out those words like blows and as I walked past I felt like they were forcing my head down too.

I was so mad at myself. I should have at least made eye contact... or something just to check in that she was okay. If my life were a movie I would have pretended that I knew her and we hadn't seen each other in a while and asked if she wanted to walk me to the bus station just to catch up a little. But I got scared and I got frustrated that all these adults were just letting this go on. I mean, even if someone had told him to keep the swearing down because there were kids around, at least it would have broken up his anger a little. I was just too scared.

I slept with that all the way back to T-dot. I arrived half an hour earlier than anticipated, so I went into the Arrivals Terminal to call him. I'm not sure why that arrival terminal even exists. It's like a ghost refuge. It's always ghostly silent and the most bizarre people are sitting there waiting. They're not waiting for a bus to leave, presumably they're waiting for one to arrive. I doubt they really know what they're waiting for.

I walked the length of the building to the payphones interrupting the visual beam of all those sitting around me. It wasn't until I reached the end that I saw everyone was staring at two cab drivers yelling at eachother. The scene took place silently because of the arrival glass seperating the lost souls of arrivals with the violent reality taking place just outside. I have no idea what the men were fighting about. That's my second fight I've ever really witnessed. My second fight of 2005 as well. These were middle aged men kicking each other and punching each other and throwing each other into traffic in order to smash heads into passing vehicles. And there were the citizens again, watching. A security guard came out and broke up the fight. They made the men get back into their cabs and wait for the cops. I called Steve.

I didn't feel comfortable going outside quite yet, so I sat down to listen to the silence. I sat two seats away from this woman who must have been in her early thirties. Her long brown hair was pulled back into an elementary school type ponytail. She wore a grey puffy jacket, a floral skirt, dark green tights and galoshes. On her lap was a shiny ready heart shaped box of chocolates. She fingered the chocolates slowly, dancing around the empty ruffled paper wrappers surrounding those that remained. When she had finished a chocolate, she closed the box and giggled to herself as she traced out the name "Russell Stovers". Then she would repeat the process.

I left the arrivals terminal. The land of lost souls doesn't take long to suck the life out of you. I stood on the street corner in my own world. I was completely shaken up by my afternoon. Phantom had to drive by me and yell out my name to get my attention. It took a little while, but he brought me back to myself and we had an amazing afternoon. We went to Kama Sutra yoga which was incredible. I haven't been in that space for so long. I needed that kind of healing yoga goodness after the afternoon that I had had. Plus holding hands with someone you love during final relaxation was amazing. Feeling the breath and energy of that person as your body resonates from all the poses was comforting. (Feeling them fall asleep is funny too!) After yoga we had a coffee with Matt and Kate which was excellent. I'm really looking forward to more hanging out next weekend!

Steve and I ended up going downtown for a late late greasy dinner, which wasn't good for my stomach. Before we caught the vomit comet home we went to a Tim Horton's so Steve could get a snack and we could use the washroom. It was like night of the living dead homeless people in there. There were about five men and one older woman (looked like she was seventy) with their heads face down in newspapers with T-Ho's garbage strewn around them.

My dad calls it the curse of the artist that I see these people and I desperately want to know their story and tell their story. It physically hurts me to see how society has failed these people and that anger and violence and loneliness seems to have taken over their lives. Why can't we just step in? I'm tired of being afraid.

When we finally got back to my house, Steve and I hid underground on my floorbed for thirteen hours straight. It was warm and safe and comfortable, the exact opposit of most of my day. I suppose I have to learn how to balance taking care of myself and saving the world because if I get to involved in one side or the other I just end up sad and distraught.