nin137

Nick's Journal
2004-06-18 01:48:01 (UTC)

Psychotics at swimming pools

so now that i have nothing to do with my life i just go to
the pool near my house. i go there hoping for the
peaceful repose that is usually associated with such a
tranquil location. unfortunately the psychotically rich
fucks that inhabit this location have other plans with me.
the other day i'm sitting there reading my book to the
incessant screaming of a thing htat couldn't be larger
than 3 feet and no more than 6 years old. now usually
childish screaming is as natural to a pool environment as
are the screams of horrific tragedy at a battlefield.
yet if you just tone out the conglomeration of screams and
zero in on just one of them you hear the story behind it.
the idiosyncratic plea for help.
i heard this coming from this little child. he screamed
louder than the rest, not in exultation but in anguish.
he screamed the most horrible curse words and the most
ghastly, ineffable proclamations. his were screams that
begged for attention. he dictated all that went on (or
tried to, without any success much to his dismay), he
tried to compensate for the lack of attention he got at
home by being the center of attention at the pool in a
form of ludacrous authority. he screamed at all other
children to obey his constant orders, "don't swim here,
jump there, play this game". this child screamed so much
that i thought that his little vocal chords would blow out
of his throat.
after a while he noticed his futility and resigned himself
to a hysterical fit of anguish. the lifeguard told him to
leave and he went apeshit. i have never seen a six year
old child act as this one did. he lost it. he tried to
climb the stairs to the lifeguard. he screamed
obscenities that would make george carlin blush. i
couldn't believe my ears. nothing could be worse than
this show of utter dementia and anguish...i was wrong.
there i am trying to concentrate on my book when i hear,
"niiiiiiiiiki"
i knew by this that it was one of my mothers friends.
only they call my by my effiminate equivalent of a name.
this woman, middle-aged and sullen, propped herself down
beside me, not caring at all of the intrusion she created
on my sublime sanctity.
she began just gushing her story (which i had not at all
asked for) and let me tell you it was horrific.
she divorced her husband a year ago, but she had worked
together with him at a hotel (apparently they had met
there). they divorced but still worked together. and i
mean together. they shared the same office, even the same
computer. they had been married for 15 years, happily
abiding by the confinements of a life always together when
suddenly they snapped. now, she practically cried to me,
it was all so horrible. she had to share an office with
him and share a computer. it was the most suffocating
silence ever, and yet with all this, she added with a
bitterly ironic smile on the right side of her face, they
talked more than they ever did during their marriage.
thanks babe. fuck you.
her daughter has had a nervous breakdown and won't make it
to the college, unless she hijacks a car from the funny
farm. her (first marriage or god knows what) son is
already divorced after one month and already attempted
suicide. she, herself was doing just fine, cos she had
met a swedish boyfriend over the internet, whom she had
just met in person and was relieved to find out he was
psychotic, much like herself.
i asked her if i should slit her throat now and throw her
in the pool or if i should just wait another week. she
chuckled thinking it was a joke (these people adore
macabre jests) as i turned away to the screaming child.