The sad fate of my flats

I love flat shoes.  I love my heels too, but if you're taking the bus/subway, walking up a hill, and then five flights of stairs, they can be a bit of a hassle.  Just a bit.  So, to adapt to my environment, I've developed a love for fancy flats.  Shiny, metallic, canvas, bows, cut out patterns, pointy toe or round, they're all good.  You can also wear very "outrageous" flats, the high heel equivalent could never been worn to work without looking like a stripper.  Comfy and attention-getting, with a thin veneer of sensibility and sophistication. The downside of these shoes is how quickly they wear out.  None of mine have lasted more than three months, and that's pushing it.  Heels, particularly platform heels, don't wear out very fast.  The bottom of those shoes are are as hard as rocks, more likely to damage the pavement than to wear out.
So my newest flats are beginning to show signs of decay, the fabric is starting to wear out near the toes, the sole is beginning to separate, they're stretching out a bit too much... if only they were more like $5 bucks a pair instead of $20.

Quotes of the Day

I've got two of 'em today. The first comes from Stiff, the second comes from a crazy woman at the bus stop.
Let's begin with the book, "Dissection and surgical instruction, like meat-eating, require a carefully maintained set of illusions and denial." I love it, I just need to find a way to incorporate it in to my daily life...

Moving on. So I, and all my fellow passengers, are exiting the bus. There is this woman who's obviously crazy as fuck, she's filthy, morbidly obese, using a shopping cart as a walker, and her clothes didn't match, lurking next to the CVS. So as we're walking down the sidewalk, she starts to mumble, "You're all fucking pigs." She gets louder and the statements get better, "You're all a bunch of Commies! Communist pigs! You're spies, you shouldn't be here!" I'm not sure if the comments were directed at my group because we were using public transit, the number of immigrants, or the fact that I was wearing a black coat with very red lipstick. I like to think it's the last reason, that I look like a Cold War( the first one) Russian spy, a movie version, but a spy nevertheless.

Ah, the subway...

On occasion, okay on a regular basis, I take the subway around town. One would think that taking the subway in Los Angeles, being several stories underground, know that if the power goes out it'll be the first time I've ever witnessed true darkness, and the possibility of earthquakes it would be scary enough. But not for me. I have recently developed a taste for subway related horror movies. Natural disaster simply isn't enough for that morning adrenaline rush, no, I need to think that there might me monsters, mutants, and psychopaths creeping around in the narrow subway tunnels. All the subway movies are based in places that have had an underground system for decades, with discontinued lines, blocked up passage ways, a subway grave yard... the LA subway system is only 18 years old. There are no secret tunnels, forgotten rail lines, there's no subway system below this one that was paved over to make way for the new line thereby infuriating ghost.

These movies, for the most part, are truly terrible, but there is one shining gem; Creep. Starring Franka Potente, of Lola Rennt fame, this movie manages to caputer all the most basic subway fears; falling a sleep at the station, missing the last train, and getting lock in for the night. With other people and one monster. The down side and upside of other people in any horror movie is that you, the heroine, can use the body count to as a count down to executing your brilliant save the day (for you) plan.
The other movies I've sat though are Knotrol and the Midnight Meat Train. The latter just has such a great title, it sounds like a gay porno, which is probably because it's by Clive Barker (y'know, Hellraiser). Knotrol is kinda more a psychological thriller set in a post Berlin Wall wall eastern Europe, which is enough to drive you crazy all on its own.
Anyway my point is that I cannot get on the subway without my gruesome death, not by being crushed by 1000s of pounds concrete, buried alive, or slowly but surely running out of air in pitch black darkness. No I need to think about where would monster hide, what's a good distance to stand away from the rails should someone push me, which one of my fellow passengers needs to be watched closely. I suppose this is because there's hope when there's monsters, etc, around. You can run, you can scream, you can plead and bargain, you can do a little damage. You can't do that when the tunnel collapses in on you. Ah, the subway...