Tall people drive me mad, with their ridiculously gawky stupid big scissor legs, and then they sit on the train opposite you with their legs apart like they’ve got something good going on, which they probably do, since they rule the fucken world. And your knees have to touch their knees, or if they’re really tall, their inner thigh. Anyway that just happened to me a short time ago and I don’t want it to be happening. There should be some kind of recognised etiquette for really tall people, to clutch their legs or something and rest their chins on their knees. Or, really, they should stand. Or have operations.
This morning I took a train with a gang of young men probably early 20s who were all of the same ethnic background (or at least, they all knew the same language and it wasn’t English, but they did all know English too, or rather, one of the jokes that was cracking them up, and they were VERY happy, was to bark at one another ‘speak English!’). Another of their jokes was to call out in a high pitched voice, ‘David, David’ which was NOT about me, unless I am going bipolar and I only think that’s what I was hearing.
A few times lately I have been in the accidental company of young men who are just so filled with hilarity and glee they are basically trilling with joy, wheezing and giggling, and it’s like they can’t keep their mirth in at all. I hate that glee so much. Two days ago I was on a train with two boys who were not boys at all but old enough to know better, who were fixated on a joke about ‘your mum’s titties’ (or was it boobies) repeated in different voices (though usually sotto voce) interspersed with more serious discussion about how one of them had a father who wouldn’t let him spend any time alone with his fiancée. Don’t know why, he seemed like such a mature individual.
I was having a small spat with myself in the state library because there was a guy at the microfilm reader next to me who was obviously unable to use the machine. And I was thinking don’t even think about asking me how to do it, there are staff here. But then he went off to find a staff member and, I suppose, couldn’t because he came back alone and tried to figure it all out again. Awful for him. And for me, as I was annoyed about his existence, and the fact that if he asked me, I would help him, and I wouldn’t even be able to express my irritation, because it wasn’t his fault, and it wasn’t the state library’s fault either because they’re underfunded, blah blah, possibly and probably. Or they’re all on the internet reading about Michael Jackson’s non-children (everyone at desks these days are always intent on something on a computer and always want to make very certain you can’t see what they’re ‘working on’).