Freak Magnet
Jan. 23rd, 2004 09:53 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
darren_strangerDon'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.
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.
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no subject
Date: 2004-01-22 11:11 pm (UTC)But shit. Some people I wonder. & then I think - NO I dont want to know how you fucking turds think - you are a sick fuck.
Like this "thing" (as calling him a man insults you & every other male that is a human) - a bullet would be a saviour.
no subject
Date: 2004-01-23 01:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-23 02:24 am (UTC)& never will.
So that is why he hates us so.
Stiff shit cunt.
Start treating women with some respect he may get more than a RAPE with his mates in a bin.
FFS
Take care
no subject
Date: 2004-01-23 12:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-23 01:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-23 03:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-23 04:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-23 04:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-23 05:00 am (UTC)Part of me wonders if it's worth a call to the local constabulary on the strength of something that's probably a bit of sick fantasy.
no subject
Date: 2004-01-23 05:13 am (UTC)I don't actually believe the police are on-the-ball enough to do the kind of slightly-strenuous piecing-together that'd involve, but it's worth a shot if you think this nutbag might be genuine.
no subject
Date: 2004-01-23 05:47 am (UTC)Now, here's to an uneventful train ride home tonight.
no subject
Date: 2004-01-24 07:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-25 12:40 am (UTC)I've done the same thing...got attacked one night walking home from a club (in the days of *white* face) - rescued by a passing taxi driver. Friends advised me to report, on the basis that the guy might have gone on to 'be successful', so I did, at the local copper shop the next day.
Here comes the sad bit. You might know my sister is a police officer - I told her a couple of months later - she had kittens, followed the report up. She discovered the report had never even been filed. Presumably because of 'my weird appearance', mention of where i was on my way home from. (grrr, grrr, grrr, but not news to any of us)
Next thing I knew, I had some important Detective dude on the phone wanting me in to St Kilda Rd Police Complex to look at photo books. I didn't go. The report was now filed - if they seriously needed me because of a connected event, THEN I'd go. It was months later!
Family connections yay......just what you need to get the actual attention of the police if you actually *need* them (or even just try to be a good member of the community)
We are the good people, we do our best. Perhaps a stronger sense of community than many - just not many to 'commune with'! And contrary to judgements of others.
And what a fucked up world it is up there
Back again
Date: 2004-01-27 04:10 am (UTC)To even things out, I read a book yesterday (Amsterdam, Ian McEwan) where a composer, walking on the moors in England, chooses to dash down his fells-inspired music, rather than intervene in a 'dispute' between a man and a woman he spots over thatta way a little. Turns out the man is the local serial rapist. He's caught.
And the composer comes to a suitably nasty end......
(fiction is so nice and neat)
Re: Back again
Date: 2004-01-27 05:43 am (UTC)In this case, even if the police were unlikely to do anything with the info, it was worth the minimal effort of one phone call and a couple of "it's probably nothing, but.."s. i'd pretty much dismissed the possibility that this supposed 'gang bang' really was a rape (if it happened at all), but it was reading other people's reactions here that got me thinking what even a small possibility might mean.
Hopefully the fact i've heard nothing more means it was all bollocks after all.
*THE* place to meet wacky people
Date: 2004-01-27 09:13 pm (UTC)The ex-con waiting with me (break and enter somewhere public - I wasn't really listening), 'adopted' me. He wouldn't go away and he wouldn't stop talking, even tho I was flat out on the floor.
He had an appointment later in the day with his parole officer or else "back to gaol" (who's been a naughty boy then on his parole conditions?) He was a butcher by trade. Very heavily tatooed (including swastikas, various prison tatts and something very rude on his inner lip, which, of course, he insisted on my seeing).
He insisted on telling me stories of people he knew that had chopped their own limbs off. Some bloke broke up with his gf and chopped off his own hand, just last week, if you believe him
He needed a new script for his puffer.
And he was harmless. Really. Perfectly nice, and concerned for me.
PLease let the veil of surreality descend over the scene......The other 2 or 3 there were drunks with miscellaneous complaints. There are a couple of young immigrant boys waiting for their mum. It's 6am in the morning.
I saw the young tall blonde guy, - yuppie type - with one bloody bare foot wander in with some relief. Aha, here is a 'normal' injury, he'll dilute the drunks abusing the staff a little. Maybe a new audience for my ex-con Peter? Gee, that's early in the morning to put a piece of steel through your foot!
Relief right up until he announced 'the king of Ireland should rule Ireland' at the top of his voice in the middle of the waiting room.....Oh well, there's that theory out the window.
Blond Guy got 'inside' some time after me. I had a lovely chat with the security guy they brought down to watch him. The guard said, yes, they'd put restraints on him if he actually threatened anyone or any of the equipment. He kept the entire ward 'entertained' with his para-military hoo-haa. "Do you want me to clear Australia of everyone except the Aboriginals? Right now? Do you wanna? Do you wanna?" A whole lot of stuff about war. It was absolutely endless. Still going when I left, 5 hours later.
My various visits to public casualty departments have always been extremely eye opening, because I've seen the various people at their most......florid. In their full colours, so's to speak.
Reminds me of one of the last times I was in Casualty at the Alfred - where I was there twice in a couple of nights and befriended a blonde lady who was admitted to the wards after the first night. Befriended coz we were both smokers (extra guilty popping out for a smoke when you're waiting to go in at an ER!). She was a bit rough, but generally ok. Saw her the second night, down from the ward, and she was talking about how the nurse was trying to get her something or another she didn't want to do. She said 'so then I pulled my knife'.
(which of course they then took off her).
Like I said, a wacko every single time.