07 December 2008
26 November 2008
Weird People
In a city of five million people, some of them are bound go crazy eventually. Each of these people I see on a pretty frequent basis, and each of these people I want to ask, "what the hell is your deal?" So let the freak show commence.
1.) "Homeless" lady with an iPod:
I call her homeless only because she kind of looks like a vagabond, smells, and is constantly begging on the street corner by my house. To the normal, untrained eye she would look like your average homeless person. Slightly destitute, standing in the same place for long periods of time, and begging for money. I encountered her for the first time shortly after arriving in Madrid. I know you're not supposed to give homeless money because they may buy
a.) drugs
or
b.) alcohol
but I tend to give them five cents here and there just as a good deed for the day. She always stood on the street corner by the plaza in my neighborhood with her house hand out, but I never paid her any mind. The first time I approached her to give her a donation, I already had my hand in my pocket, feeling around for a 5 center. Shortly before approaching her, I realized something strange. There was a white string hanging out of her ears, running down through her jacket, into her hand. In her hand was what appeared to be an iPod video. At that moment, I jammed my hand back in to my pocket, determined not to ever give her my money. For most people, this would seem like a mean gesture, but I have my rationale for my actions. Although she may have stolen the iPod, she would at the very least need a computer to charge it. If she had a computer, she would need a place to plug it in, presumably a house. And finally, if she had a house, then she clearly didn't need my money. She's a fraud. If you're going to fake being homeless, do a better job at it.
2.) Latino short guy with the worst case of short guy syndrome ever.
If you get on the number one line at Atocha at 5 PM and get in the first car, you will no doubt see this "man". I use the term loosely because he's about a foot and a half shorter than I am (mind you I'm just under six feet). This man instantly plows you over to get on the metro to assert his male dominance. After almost pushing you in to the gap between the platform and the Metro itself, he manages to take up as much room as possible. If you're not familiar with the situation, Atocha (the main train station in Madrid) is quite busy during this time, so space on the Metro is at a premium. Having a 4'6" man take up the space of a 6'3" 375 pound man is quite an inconvenience. While he's occupying a space large enough to land a Black Hawk helicopter, he likes to take his tweezers out of his pocket and go to town. This is not acceptable. This is tantamount to clipping your toe nails in public. However, this man does not tweeze the normal spots. No nose hair, no uni-brow. This man tweezes his goatee. I don't know if he has a hormonal balance, but if you have so little facial hair that you need to tweeze it, you should just give up on facial grooming. After littering his shitty goatee hair all over your bag (which he does every day, mind you), he plows over you on his way out of the Metro, b-lines it up the stairs, and pushes an old lady in front of a car.
To close I will leave you with the weirdest. Not weird because of what he does, but because of the context in which he does it.
3.) Creepy crying guy who cries outside of his apartment building once a day.
Now I know people have emotional issues, and everyone cries sometimes, but everyday? Really? It's sad. Truthfully, I want to stop and talk to him one day, ask him what's wrong, but I have a feeling he might be a serial killer that lures people in that way. When I say he's crying, it's not the "oh man, I'm stressed, a good cry would do me some good" cry. It's the "my mom, my wife, the president, and my dog were all in a plane that crashed into a nunnery" kind of cry. He just sits there and bawls his eyes out. Hard. And let me tell you, that makes the 30 seconds it takes to walk past him seem like an eternity. Hopefully he gets the help he needs.
And thus ends my post about the many weirdos of Madrid. Trust me, I could fill the Library of Congress with this shit.
1.) "Homeless" lady with an iPod:
I call her homeless only because she kind of looks like a vagabond, smells, and is constantly begging on the street corner by my house. To the normal, untrained eye she would look like your average homeless person. Slightly destitute, standing in the same place for long periods of time, and begging for money. I encountered her for the first time shortly after arriving in Madrid. I know you're not supposed to give homeless money because they may buy
a.) drugs
or
b.) alcohol
but I tend to give them five cents here and there just as a good deed for the day. She always stood on the street corner by the plaza in my neighborhood with her house hand out, but I never paid her any mind. The first time I approached her to give her a donation, I already had my hand in my pocket, feeling around for a 5 center. Shortly before approaching her, I realized something strange. There was a white string hanging out of her ears, running down through her jacket, into her hand. In her hand was what appeared to be an iPod video. At that moment, I jammed my hand back in to my pocket, determined not to ever give her my money. For most people, this would seem like a mean gesture, but I have my rationale for my actions. Although she may have stolen the iPod, she would at the very least need a computer to charge it. If she had a computer, she would need a place to plug it in, presumably a house. And finally, if she had a house, then she clearly didn't need my money. She's a fraud. If you're going to fake being homeless, do a better job at it.
2.) Latino short guy with the worst case of short guy syndrome ever.
If you get on the number one line at Atocha at 5 PM and get in the first car, you will no doubt see this "man". I use the term loosely because he's about a foot and a half shorter than I am (mind you I'm just under six feet). This man instantly plows you over to get on the metro to assert his male dominance. After almost pushing you in to the gap between the platform and the Metro itself, he manages to take up as much room as possible. If you're not familiar with the situation, Atocha (the main train station in Madrid) is quite busy during this time, so space on the Metro is at a premium. Having a 4'6" man take up the space of a 6'3" 375 pound man is quite an inconvenience. While he's occupying a space large enough to land a Black Hawk helicopter, he likes to take his tweezers out of his pocket and go to town. This is not acceptable. This is tantamount to clipping your toe nails in public. However, this man does not tweeze the normal spots. No nose hair, no uni-brow. This man tweezes his goatee. I don't know if he has a hormonal balance, but if you have so little facial hair that you need to tweeze it, you should just give up on facial grooming. After littering his shitty goatee hair all over your bag (which he does every day, mind you), he plows over you on his way out of the Metro, b-lines it up the stairs, and pushes an old lady in front of a car.
To close I will leave you with the weirdest. Not weird because of what he does, but because of the context in which he does it.
3.) Creepy crying guy who cries outside of his apartment building once a day.
Now I know people have emotional issues, and everyone cries sometimes, but everyday? Really? It's sad. Truthfully, I want to stop and talk to him one day, ask him what's wrong, but I have a feeling he might be a serial killer that lures people in that way. When I say he's crying, it's not the "oh man, I'm stressed, a good cry would do me some good" cry. It's the "my mom, my wife, the president, and my dog were all in a plane that crashed into a nunnery" kind of cry. He just sits there and bawls his eyes out. Hard. And let me tell you, that makes the 30 seconds it takes to walk past him seem like an eternity. Hopefully he gets the help he needs.
And thus ends my post about the many weirdos of Madrid. Trust me, I could fill the Library of Congress with this shit.
22 November 2008
05 November 2008
03 November 2008
Thrift Stores and Anarchists
Journal Entry from 1.11.08 at about 9 PM:
Went to Sincoste tonight (free thrift store run by anarchists). Nothing good clothing-wise. However, some good came of the whole trip. I inadvertently introduced myself to Madrid's anarchist underground. Sincoste and Patio Marvillas (the anarchist squat where Sincoste is located) aren't so much stores or a place to hang out. They are an anarchist squatters' paradise. As I write this I hear echoes of demonstration and revolt. Drums, whistles, and screams for freedom reverberate down tthe street as they march towards Plaza de Espana. I'm not sure what they're marching for or against, but at least it's a start. This network of non-conformists is unlike anything I've ever seen or heard of in the United States. Soon, the sounds of punk, hip-hop, and reggae will be sounding from the basement of their five story home.
All political, all pro-human rights, all anti-war, and all for the greater good.
As an American who sympethizes with their causes and beliefs, I am frequently disenfranchised with the political, anti-war, "anarcho" ethos of those living in the United States . The revolution is dead there, they are no longer fighting. They hide behind their rhetoric and beliefs and use them more as a fashion statement than a stament of their lifestyle and beliefs. The anarcho-communists here, however, do not. For them it is a religion, a passion, a belief, a way of life. You don't hear about these people in the news. This is grassroots, word-of-mouth, donation financed revolution. The way it should be.
I never understood that old maxim, but now I do: "the Revolution won't be televised". It can't be, for that would kill it, bastardize it, and commercialize it (like what has already been done in the United States). It witll destroy what these people believe in. This has already been done in the United States where being a revolutionary, sporting a Che shirt, or wearing a Castro style hat is considered counter-culture. Here they walk the walk. Their revolution is silent and whispered while also shouted and screamed. That is the essence of their revolution.
Subversive and dangerous, the way it should be.
Went to Sincoste tonight (free thrift store run by anarchists). Nothing good clothing-wise. However, some good came of the whole trip. I inadvertently introduced myself to Madrid's anarchist underground. Sincoste and Patio Marvillas (the anarchist squat where Sincoste is located) aren't so much stores or a place to hang out. They are an anarchist squatters' paradise. As I write this I hear echoes of demonstration and revolt. Drums, whistles, and screams for freedom reverberate down tthe street as they march towards Plaza de Espana. I'm not sure what they're marching for or against, but at least it's a start. This network of non-conformists is unlike anything I've ever seen or heard of in the United States. Soon, the sounds of punk, hip-hop, and reggae will be sounding from the basement of their five story home.
All political, all pro-human rights, all anti-war, and all for the greater good.
As an American who sympethizes with their causes and beliefs, I am frequently disenfranchised with the political, anti-war, "anarcho" ethos of those living in the United States . The revolution is dead there, they are no longer fighting. They hide behind their rhetoric and beliefs and use them more as a fashion statement than a stament of their lifestyle and beliefs. The anarcho-communists here, however, do not. For them it is a religion, a passion, a belief, a way of life. You don't hear about these people in the news. This is grassroots, word-of-mouth, donation financed revolution. The way it should be.
I never understood that old maxim, but now I do: "the Revolution won't be televised". It can't be, for that would kill it, bastardize it, and commercialize it (like what has already been done in the United States). It witll destroy what these people believe in. This has already been done in the United States where being a revolutionary, sporting a Che shirt, or wearing a Castro style hat is considered counter-culture. Here they walk the walk. Their revolution is silent and whispered while also shouted and screamed. That is the essence of their revolution.
Subversive and dangerous, the way it should be.
24 October 2008
Over Inspired
The reason I haven't been blogging isn't a lack of inspiration, or being too busy. I have actually had too much inspiration. Countless times I have sat down at my laptop, opened up Blogger and stared aimlessly at the screen until I decided to just go look at Facebook because I wasn't going to write anything. To alleviate the situation, I decided to by a small notebook in which to chronicle my thoughts. So, from now on instead a play-by-play recap of my time in Spain, it will be selected notes and observations. Enjoy:
10/22/08 on the train heading back from uni:
If Philadelphia is the city of Brotherly Love, then Madrid is the city of Platonic Love. This city drips lust and sex out of every one of its pores. The smell of the city and the prostitutes lining the streets create a city-wide horniness that manages to perverse every facet of our collective being. You can call it culture or obsession, but what ever it is, everyone feels it. Maybe it was the 30 years of sexual repression under Franco's regime, but there is definitely a sexual revolution occuring in Spain.
The evidence is in the streets.
There, lovers, prostitutes, and lovelorn singles cross paths everyday. Although most are looking for love, and some for the kind that can be bought, many have already found it. Perhaps it is the sexual acts I've seen in doorways, on street corners, and in the Metro on late weekend nights. Whatever it is, it's everywhere.
Ironically, this culture which displlays such affection towards those who are familiar, gives a cold shouler to outsiders. Glaring looks are received after accidentally bumping two entangled lovers. In this momoent they turn their love in to seemingly pure hatred for you. Hatred because you ruined that shear moment of passion, hatred because you existed, just pure hatred. They never resort to violence, but their death glares envoke the same amount of damage as any knife could.
This is the duality of Spanish love: passionate love balanced by nonverbal physical hatred. Viva amor.
10/22/08 on the train heading back from uni:
If Philadelphia is the city of Brotherly Love, then Madrid is the city of Platonic Love. This city drips lust and sex out of every one of its pores. The smell of the city and the prostitutes lining the streets create a city-wide horniness that manages to perverse every facet of our collective being. You can call it culture or obsession, but what ever it is, everyone feels it. Maybe it was the 30 years of sexual repression under Franco's regime, but there is definitely a sexual revolution occuring in Spain.
The evidence is in the streets.
There, lovers, prostitutes, and lovelorn singles cross paths everyday. Although most are looking for love, and some for the kind that can be bought, many have already found it. Perhaps it is the sexual acts I've seen in doorways, on street corners, and in the Metro on late weekend nights. Whatever it is, it's everywhere.
Ironically, this culture which displlays such affection towards those who are familiar, gives a cold shouler to outsiders. Glaring looks are received after accidentally bumping two entangled lovers. In this momoent they turn their love in to seemingly pure hatred for you. Hatred because you ruined that shear moment of passion, hatred because you existed, just pure hatred. They never resort to violence, but their death glares envoke the same amount of damage as any knife could.
This is the duality of Spanish love: passionate love balanced by nonverbal physical hatred. Viva amor.
01 October 2008
Wi-fi: The Opiate of the Masses
So, I finally got wi-fi in my apartment, and let me tell you it's the best feeling in the world. I finally have some sort of connection with everyone back home! So on to stories from the last week. As you can see from my previous 2 posts, I was going through a bout of homesickness. I told my friend Mariah about it here and she decided to take me on a week of adventures. Things didn't exactly turn out how we had planned, but we managed to create a fun week out of our endeavours. To culminate our week, we decided to go on a daytrip to Toledo (south of Madrid). Funny enough, Toledo is about as far from Madrid as Toledo is from Detroit. Anywho, we got lost in the city, found a great pizza place (finished 3rd in the European pizza cup) and managed to get down all the way to the river and take some amazing pictures. Then we walked all the way back up to the top of the city and saw el Alcazar and the Toledo Military School from across the river. I'd keep describing it but my words do not do it any justice. The proof is in the Kodak, so check the pictures at the bottom of this post.
In other news, Spain has been good. Met some interesting people from all over the world (England, Ireland, Argentina, Switzerland, Sweeden, Finland, France, etc...). The strangest thing is the fact that I continually see people who look exaclty like the people from home.
So far I've seen: "Jillian", "John Vournakis", "Justin Rinke", and "Matt Embree" of rx bandits fame. The latter I've seen a million times, you have no idea how many dirty hippies there are in Spain.
Spain is rife with amazing grafitti, so take a look in the pictures to see what you're missing.
Anyways, here's the photos, take it sleasy.
http://www.new.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2032457&l=6b6ea&id=36202877
http://www.new.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2032456&l=3f101&id=36202877
http://www.new.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2032455&l=36d6f&id=36202877
http://www.new.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2032389&id=36202877
In other news, Spain has been good. Met some interesting people from all over the world (England, Ireland, Argentina, Switzerland, Sweeden, Finland, France, etc...). The strangest thing is the fact that I continually see people who look exaclty like the people from home.
So far I've seen: "Jillian", "John Vournakis", "Justin Rinke", and "Matt Embree" of rx bandits fame. The latter I've seen a million times, you have no idea how many dirty hippies there are in Spain.
Spain is rife with amazing grafitti, so take a look in the pictures to see what you're missing.
Anyways, here's the photos, take it sleasy.
http://www.new.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2032457&l=6b6ea&id=36202877
http://www.new.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2032456&l=3f101&id=36202877
http://www.new.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2032455&l=36d6f&id=36202877
http://www.new.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2032389&id=36202877
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