Archive for March, 2010

El Adventures – Quotes from a Schizophrenic Hobo

Sunday, March 14th, 2010

I’ve yet to have gone on a bad trip into Chicago. Time and time again, the city has yielded me nothing but raw, unadulterated storytelling-worthy craziness, and for that, I thank it greatly. City adventures are typically much more rewarding than the run-of-the-mill crappy Northwestern frat/apartment party. The goal at these parties is to get as wasted as possible, and to watch your friends (and enemies) get shitfaced beyond recognition. In the city, you can do all of that, but to awesome live music. And best of all, you can meet some really interesting people in the process, all of whom are insane.

Just like I’ve yet to have a bad Chicago trip, I’ve yet to have had one without a crazy. Yesterday, coming back from seeing Muse and Hockey with my friends (two of the greatest concerts I’ve ever seen by the way), we met this angry ranting hobo on the El train. Didn’t get a name. I’ll call him Rufio.

Rufio initially began by having a very civil discussion with an invisible passenger occupying the empty seat next to him. Alas, a modest debate between friends turned into an ugly spat. Mumbling turned into livid roaring. Every passenger, including me, turned their heads to avoid eye contact, but kept listening on to the fascinating train wreck. Among his quotes:
“There was an orange haze, and a purple haze, and it came out of the mountain!”
“In the universe, there is your mom and dad who know about the universe, so they gonna kick your ass.”
“Don’t you talk about the fuckin’ book. You ain’t Peter Pan, you Captain Hook. AND I AM RUFIO!”

Upon arrival at Howard, the final destination on the Red line, the other passengers nervously emptied out the train. Rufio straggled out, continuing his fierce altercation with Captain Hook, his voice howled through the air, even after he’d already disappeared from sight.

I wholly admit it, for laughing at him, I am beyond salvation, a douchebag who will proceed to Hell on Judgment Day should one exist…While I wont be getting atonement with this, I do hope that he conquered Captain Hook though, and I do hope that he will one day come across treatment for his disorder, though with brutal honesty, it ain’t gonna happen. But who knows. Who am I to laugh at him? In the end, it’s all perspective. Maybe he was the sane one, fighting a battle against an unseen villain while the rest of us laughed–

This isn’t making sense anymore. I intended for this to be a short post about some crazy man’s lines, and plans have once again not gone accordingly. I better stop procrastinating and get back to work. Ciao, till the next Crazy.

Lucid dream recall

Wednesday, March 10th, 2010

I had this dream in the middle of a short, 15 minute nap that I took in the midst of desperately studying for an organic chemistry midterm. Given that I rarely ever remember my dreams any more, it’s one of the most intense I’ve had in a while, the only dream in a long-ass time in which I remember acting on conscious decisions.

So anyway, I fell asleep in the library-

-And opened my eyes, in what seemed to be the same one. Same paint scheme, bookshelves, dreary, gray atmosphere. I was leaning against an icy wall. Spontaneously, my eyes began flooding, a trail of hot tears streaking down my cheeks. Some person I know, a short blond, or light-haired Caucasian girl, appeared in front of me. She may have teleported.
With that mixture of pity and concern and her face, she asked me what was wrong, whether I was okay, that whole spiel of feigned empathy. I didn’t feel any spike in sadness, or happiness, so I could offer no explanation.
The sound of of bouncing basketball caught my ear–I turned to follow it. There was a gathering of people surrounding a basketball court, a clearing between the jungle of bookshelves. I ran up to the court and asked if there was as game going on. Sure enough, an intramural game was about to start. They needed one more guy. Of course I wanted to play. I knew some of these guys and had run with them before; they would put up a good game.
To their dismay, I ended up backing out, though. A basketball court in a library? This didn’t make a shred of sense. Logic seeped in. This had to be a dream. I scrambled around the library, looking for more proof of fantasy, an excuse to wake up. I came across a familiar-looking, fobbish Asian guy. I asked him whether or not this was a dream. He told me to put out my hand. This is how we were going to make sure. He smiled at me creepily. I didn’t like where this was headed. It was weird. He squeezed my fist. I expected pain. Remember that prank in middle school/high school where kids share you hand and dislodge your knuckles? I grimaced, but all I got was a firm, warm clasp. His grin widened in width and creepiness.
I didn’t wake up. I was still here.
I pulled back. My heart began to compress in panic. I slapped my face a couple of times. The sting lingered. Logical fallacies or not, this shit was too vivid.
Disembodied voices ran through my head. I quickly scanned my surroundings. It wasn’t from the fob, and there was nobody else around in plain sight. Instantaneously, I began feeling the numbness of my hands, the stiffness of my feet, the grinding of my neck onto an awkward protrusion. I forcibly cracked my stiff eyelids open.
I sat up and looked around. Deep breaths. The adrenaline was finally dissipating, pulsing cardiac returning to a more comfortable pace.
An open organic chemistry book sat on the table. Yup, this was reality.