Prank Calls and a New Concession Card (Part 1)

After the Breakdown

Today is yet another day and things are starting to stabilize but not remedy from the breakdown in my faith last night. As thought, I had to make up an excuse as to why I left without a trace. That falsification being that I made my way outside and when I tried to get back in they wouldn’t allow me. It was easy and justifiable and it worked on Keith which saved me the time and sentiment in explaining the real reasons.

I guess part of the reason I calmed down through the night was because of another twist to this already twisted life. Lyssa called me last night or this morning at 1:00 a.m. and talking to a female calmed down my heading towards a breakdown. However, the phone call didn’t do much but make me feel worse but for some reason, just talking to Lyssa (More importantly a female) outweighed the news that Lyssa got onto some guy last Saturday and that she was surrounded by loving friends.

Last night it was a big night for me but no one else would vouch for that because they didn’t see my hurt behind closed doors. I can’t open up to people, I can’t put through my opinions anymore and I don’t have a say in most events regarding my life, granting me a breakdown in who I think myself to be…

A Dangerous Diary

Digressing for a couple of seconds now, I believe this diary has the potential to ruin me in the wrong hands and be a great audience for another. In the wrong hands, this diary could be potentially dangerous as in regards to most of the skeletons in my closet and it could certainly be incriminating to a host of people who have confided secrets within me and of course, damning against my wrongs. If someone was to ask me “Pick a day out of random and read it to me”

I really don’t believe that there would be one day’s entries that wouldn’t create controversy amongst the opinions of many. Each day would grant me inevitable trouble to some scapegoat of my daily taunting, even the philosophical side of my beliefs might turn a few heads. Therefore, to the participants and actors of this intensely depicted day to day publication, the characters would be dubious to my opinions but to the audience of readers, this is nothing but fictional entertainment and an intuitive storyline.

Life as a Storyline

This diary doesn’t just hold my opinions and a one sided edge to the story. I write in many different aspects and conclusions and as chronology permits, write of the day to as far my eye’s scope can attain. In truth, I treat my life and my adventures within as an upward struggle. Sometimes I feel like I am the audience, reading this diary as I type each word, each letter, waiting with baited breath. As being the audience, I wish for there to be intriguing twists to the storyline that would make me sit back and gasp.

Therefore, I see each stage in my life as a push upwards, into more twists and plots as we turn the pages of my book. For each action that I do of a day, no matter if it is a mishap, if it ruins my immediate life or if it is an up or down, they are all twists to this tale. For that reason I don’t frown on my sudden breakdown last night but rather, I see it as a fortuitous episode in which it brought more scope to my personality and a broader intensity to my life’s storyline.

If these pages were truly a book it would have a beginning which sort of starts like an epic where you begin in the middle of action. Thence you have the middle where all the twists, turns uncertainties and intrigues intertwine to cause a debacle and displacement to a straight-line life. In this middle period there is a sense that my life is building up to some sort of climax and if it were death, I would consider it to be an unfinished anticlimax.

Rather, I would like to finish my diary one day in the future when I can look at the whole story and truly believe it when I say “The End”. A certain death might be a finale for these pages but it would leave a sense of incomplete leaving an incapacitated climax. Rather, as this metaphor would suggest, I would like to think of a perfect time to finish my diary as like bubble gum in the mouth.

As ‘Ed TV’ noted today, blowing a bubble with bubble-gum is like the storyline of my diary. Each day it gets bigger and bigger and one day I have to ask myself “Do I want to suck in the bubble when it has become its largest or do I want to push it until the bubble bursts and I get bubble-gum all over my face”. There you have it, the philosophy for the day, now let us get to chronology.

The Mystery Caller

Friday had an eerie start to it at 10:00 a.m. when I received a phone call. Picking up the receiver after two rings I found that the phone instantly hung up on me so I took no real notice. When the phone rang back seconds later I unsuspectingly picked it up but again, it hung up forthwith. When the phone rang a third time within a few seconds I let it keep ringing in the hopes of catching out the rascal by letting the phone ring out.

Hearing mum jump out of bed after eight rings I screamed out for her to leave the phone alone but as she screamed out the same news to dad it was too late, he had picked it up. That was the last time this person tried to prank me and my hopes of ringing the callback number in hopes of a clue were dashed. However, I knew the caller had to be at a payphone because the hanging up was too consistent. Trying to figure out who would be pranking me a couple of people stemmed through my head.

First there was the thought of Keith who would just have been pranking me for fun but that made no sense. Then there was the event of Lyssa having been the girl a couple of seats behind me on the train and out of malice due to my apparent snubbing (although later found out it wasn’t her) she decided to prank me, get even. Then there was the more viable option but still unexplained, the idiocy herself pranking me for pleasurable venting, Phoenix the slut from hell herself. This seemed more viable an option and as later walking would find out, the link between her gaffe.

Dressed for the City

With the rest of Friday ahead of me and no clue on what I was going to buy with my money on Monday I knew I had to give the City one more try. Therefore, without a shower and even without something to eat I dressed myself and headed out that door. Wearing my slightly tight blue pants made of Polyester and my black Hound Dog shirt again, I had my hair slicked back and my black work boots on so I could try on with effective intuition.

What else I love about these new pants and this new-style clothing is that it barely makes me sweat and it never rubs my legs or causes reddening. Taking back a couple of my words, I just remembered that my parents gave me a lift to Campbelltown which was a great boon. These clothes made me feel fairly uncomfortable walking around in Campbelltown because it wasn’t the place to be dressed up, for a man anyway.

Waiting for the Concession Card

Therefore, as my parents dropped me off as close to the pink building for my concession card, I walked all the deserted back ways I could find until I finally made it to the station. However, I also had to visit Centrelink in which I was only in there for a couple of seconds but with all the putrid variances there, I felt much out of place. When I was in the pink building receiving my concession card there was an Aboriginal lady with a kid in her pram constantly staring at me.

To give her a wrap, she had a good face with stand-out eyes but the fact that she was over 35 and that she gained a bit of weight with all the kids she must have bred, it swayed and sopped my complimentary thoughts with the ugly truth. From the corner of my eye I could only see her staring right at me, her eyes never moved. When I would glance at her (Only twice for the whole fifteen minutes in there) she didn’t blink but just kept staring with a fastidious smile. When out of there I was glad to rid my factitious patience as she was giving me the creeps.

The Weekly Ticket Problem

With my concession card in hand I was now set to gain recognition for cheaper weekly train tickets and cheaper bus fares but half of my triumph was not to be the case. Only today did I find out that I can’t get a $15.50 weekly ticket and have to buy full fare weekly tickets like everyone else. This is the case because I have the unemployment concession card and because I’m not supposed to use it for work, the best I can do is buy concession tickets on a daily basis.

This would end up costing $23 a week but today Keith and I drove to Leumeah Station where I purchased a ticket from the machine. Let’s hope that they don’t install the ticket gates too soon because if they do I won’t be able to buy tickets from Campbelltown, only sparingly. Because there is only one machine to buy tickets from I have less chance of getting it in an ‘Open’ reading but the ticket machine upstairs is never ‘Open’.

Not to my recollection of at least two years has the ticket machine upstairs ever been open so I’m up shit creek for a while. Each Sunday I will have to travel to as far as Glenfield to buy myself a weekly ticket and when the ticket machines are installed I’ll probably have to walk through the gates everyday in hopes they won’t bust me or better still, I’ll just buy my tickets from Macarthur Square, sweet. Therefore, all’s well that ends well I say…

Phoenix by the Pizza Hut

On the way to the station after receiving my concession card I walked through the back ways and walking up past the back of Pizza Hut I noticed Phoenix standing on the footpath by herself. Turning around whilst I was a fair bit away she looked at me and quickly turned away giving me one of two options for her reaction. Firstly, Phoenix could have thought I was some good looking guy she didn’t know and as most people would do, she turned away when I had spotted her looking.

Secondly, Phoenix could have promptly recognized who I was and abruptly turned around. Either because she made the prank calls this morning on a payphone for fun and seeing me was a shock or simply because she didn’t want to talk to me, probably scared that I’ll put shit on her for breaking up with her fiancé. Regardless, I too snobbed her off all the more as I walked past her without even giving her a second glance.

I’ll tell you what though, Phoenix really turned me off by how she looked like a bleached Beetroot with her hair color and how you could see every striation of her underwear through her pants. What was more of a turnoff I couldn’t tell but seeing her unshapely underwear crawling up her ass cheeks and knowing she had loose pants on gave me a guilty shiver up my spine, knowing that she was an alternative to post-Lyssa depression.