Wednesday, September 30, 2009

man

There's this man who lives in my condominium building and whenever I see him, he looks sad. Lonely and quiet and depressed. He spends his days sitting on a bench outside the building and slowly chain-smoking cigarettes. Sometimes after a smoke, he'll sit on the couch in the lobby and ponder about life. He watches the occasional passing cars and people. He seems to be waiting for someone or something to come by. Patiently sitting there but impatiently waiting. He looks miserable. He dresses himself in flannel shirts, in mostly too big clothes and wears beat up sneakers.

One day, while driving by the plaza on Kennedy and Lawrence, opposite of the Shoppers Drug Mart, I saw him searching through the plastic bags of clothing donations. The ones that were placed outside the drop box because it was filled up to the top. For him, it must've been ordinary to be hunting for clothes this way. A million thoughts and questions awoke at that point and I was left with unanswered questions.

I can't imagine how he pays the rent every month. Or how he manages to survive physically but particularly emotionally. He doesn't look healthy neither does his state of mind.

Despite his bizarre behaviour, I've seen him happy once before. He shaved that day, cleaned himself up a bit. He pulled out the only suit he had out of his closet. Black. A crisp, ironed dress shirt. White. A nice pair of black dress shoes. His eyes were alive. He was awake. And a smile was painted on his face. I wondered where he was going that day. Perhaps he was off to a job interview, my mother said. Seeing him this happy triggered a sense of hope in me. Maybe in the near or far future, he could be this happy every day.

However, the next day, he was at the same spot, sporting the same red flannel shirt he usually wears. And he was no longer alive. He was dead.

I can't help but feel sorry for him. I don't think it's the kind of pity you feel when you see a homeless person roaming around the streets and uttering words to themselves or begging for money because they have nothing. Absolutely nothing. No, it's something entirely different. It's more like sincere pity. It's earnest. True. Heartfelt.

Saturday, September 26, 2009

Take, take your breath away

I've been listening to the Love Drunk album on repeat. Not a disappointment.

Favourite song to...
Blast when driving: Love Drunk
Listen to while riding the bus: Two is Better than One
Bang your head to: Contagious

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Seventeen forever

We were seventeen and invincible,
had the world figured out
and the girl on my shoulder
told me "Everything's gonna be all right
and everything's gonna be all right."

Yeah, maybe we were in high school
But you never see the ending
When you're young and not pretending

~
This song pretty much sums everything up for me at the moment.