People on Busses
Micro character sketches of people riding the busses in San Francisco. Continue reading
Type: Writing
I like to watch people. I like to write about watching people. In another mildly creepy mini-project, a friend and I write about watching (reads: repeatedly stalking) boys that we like and hope will fall madly in love with us. It's great fun, visit the Adorable Stalkers for that. (PS, since this post, we've stopped adorably stalking. But the content lives on!)
In this new mini-project, I write about watching people on the MUNI busses of San Francisco. These character sketches capture these super interesting moments that happen nearly every day and are almost always forgotten. It's also giving me the opportunity to practice writing.
The process is simple. I write the post and hand it off to Linzi Bergmann who then interprets the character through her own style of illustration based solely on the words. She's awesome.
Beach Ball, 21 Outbound
She was the funny kind of plump with an upper body almost perfectly shaped like a giant beach beach ball – round, full and just slightly about to burst. Her shape was almost joyful in a Santa Claus kind of way. She sat quietly with her hands crossed and her legs dangling, just a bit too short to reach the floor. Her face remained expressionless as her gaze remained fixed in one direction, with a sort of quiet determination to reach her stop. She moved her head only slightly to glimpse at passengers getting off the bus while the rest of her body remained motionless with statue-like exactness. She rose slowly and tiptoed toward the exit, stepping down as the doors welcomed her to the street below.
Reading, 43 Outbound
His shoes were loosely tied, flimsy and carefree as though there was no consequence to anyone at all for unraveling. He sat quietly and expressionless, as he focused his attention downward on his book checked out from the San Francisco Public Library. The plastic covering crinkled in his had as he turned the pages. I found him attractive, but not handsome in the traditional sense. His dress was casual, his hair – short, sprinkled with shades of light ash. He seemed remarkably young in his demeanor, though the history in his face revealed his age. He was like many men I’ve come across in San Francisco. A tad scruffy. Possibly gay. Youngish, but mature. There was something that drew me to him.
Old Lady, 6 Inbound
Her voice was distinct – raspy, determined and unintentionally beautiful. Her tone turned alarming and her hysterical rants to passerby made it very clear that she was deep in her own version of reality. An outcry to Jim Donna. A plea to be hired during her job interview at UCSF. She told the old lady sitting across from her that she’s never looked so well to-do before. Followed quickly thereafter by a comment that old people need to be stopped. She wore a green, old sweatshirt with one arm tucked inside the body of the garment leaving a dead, dangly sleeve, limbless by her side. Every now and again in between spurts of anger, she playfully lifted her ugly black shoes into the air and wiggled her feet about, smiling gleefully and humming a tune under her breath. “Well, there’s a wrong way to do it and you’re doing it wrong” she coyly remarked under her breath at a woman who had taken a seat nearby. The woman had bright pink hair.
The project is on hold for now, as both Linzi and I need to find the time make these happen regularly. We’re always too busy with real work and other side projects. Yikes! But we’ve gotten a lot of great feedback inspiring us to get this back on track eventually…
