Freak Magnet

Don't know if growing up in the country has put a neon light over my head or something, but i always seem to attract random strangers to come up and talk to me on trains.  Sometimes it's pretty cool, like the young punk dude who shared his bundy and coke with me last week, sometimes they're downright psychotic (like the farmer who once wanted to rip my head off for being vegetarian).

Last night it was 30 minutes listening to this guy talk about what he does to cunts who cross him, how he thought about hiring tough guys as bodyguards but realised they'd eventually get out of line and he'd just have to beat the crap out of them and "send them home crying to their wives", about how the courts always believe the woman when you catch her cheating and "get a little upset", and about gang banging some blonde in a rubbish skip with three of his mates ("who was she?  i'll tell you who she was - she loved every minute of it, that's who she was.").  After expounding his philosophies on business and sex, he wanted to talk about mysticism, but when i wasn't responding to his attempts at telepathic contact, he told me i had to work harder, got the shits and pissed off.

Normally these sort of encounters are interesting if nothing else, but the look of pure hate in this guy's eyes sent even my defective psycho radar off the scale.  There's some headspaces i really don't want to even visit.