it's been a long time since i've last posted, i realize. i keep making all these pathetic excuses to myself, saying that i am too busy. While i am busy, i also spend the remainder of my time surfing craigslist or refreshing my facebook on this same computer that i could just as easily be blogging on. But who's interested in what i have to say? i'd much rather comb the "missed connections" late at night.
And then i decided that i have plenty of odd stories to tell, and while i love scrawling them into my little notebook tucked in my purse, i figured i could publicize a few.
today i'm going to tell you about Janet. or Janice, but i'm pretty sure her name is Janet. She comes in almost every day to the tea cafe where i work, wheeling a small suitcase behind her. She is a small woman, possibly shorter than myself. I cannot even begin to guess her age, but her leathered face makes me lean towards the 40s, but probably not much older. Every day she dresses in a different color scheme. Let's say today is red; her red fuzzy striped socks poke out from under threadbare red corduroys, her red turtleneck complements her red vest, with her big red coat on over them. A red bucket hat and red earrings complete the ensemble.
She walks up to the register and orders her drink; usually a small vanilla chai with skim and whip cream, but she likes to mix it up and surprise us with a blended lemonade or another concoction. Always whip cream and skim. And she pays with her club card, which as a constant $20 on it. When she orders, she cocks her head slightly, and strokes the ends of her black hair, speaking in a sophisticated tone. Her face is worn and red, i think she has rosacea, and she opens her compact and assesses herself frequently.
She sits down with her caravan, and begins fiddling with various things. One day, she will be laying out fragments of tin foil on the table. Another day, she pays her bills. She obviously loves cats, as we have gathered from bookmarks and magazine clippings that she has left behind for us. We collect her scraps and post them in the back room, our little shrine to her and her eccentricities. Frequently she will hold up a pen (usually a kitty-themed one, at that), erect at eye-level, like she is an antenna for some alien radio. Aliens, from what i hear, thats what the aluminum foil is about. She talks aloud to herself or an unseen being, sometimes almost shouting and cursing. My coworker said that one she saw her poking herself repeatedly in the eye socket. She writes little poems and omens on notecards and post-its, and when we find them we huddle around it and repeat her eerie words. I wish i could remember the last one we found, some verse about coming to earth and finding hatred. It was sad, and sad to think that that's how Janet feels. That there's hatred.
One of my coworkers is keeping a mental file on her, like a little side-project. I like Janet, she is a little kooky, but for the most part, harmless. From what i hear, she has toned down her behavior. I'm always nice to Janet, i always make sure she wants whipped cream. I wonder about her, where does she go before she comes in? after she leaves? i hear she goes to our other cafes as well, like a little specter that appears right when you think you lost her.
edit: 1/7/09
Walking down Madison towards the blue line, i pass by another location of our tea cafe. and sitting against the window, prodding at a sweater with a pair of scissors, is Janet.
She's like a little ghost.
edit: 1/8/09
these are the two index card messages we have received from Janet:
the first date (1/27/67) marks the flash fire that killed three astronauts on the Apollo-1 mission.
the next date (1/27-28/86) is the Challenger explosion.
the last date (2/1/03) is the Columbia explosion.
three incidents of astronaut deaths.
i'm trying to decide what kind of statement she is trying to make.
are we wrong to infringe on alien territory? are these horrific accidents warnings?
the other one is the poem, actually it could even be a limerick.
"An artist reborn came in fear.
'Don't write anymore' he did hear.
On Earth he didn't know
He had any foe
'Twas shocking when Hate did appear."
you figure it out.
