dec 26, 2002 - 15:06 - here come's the pain again
approaching the counter with a sly grin, and a handful of crumbled-up,
sweaty bills, jack smiles at the register boy.
the day has finally come: an unexpected bounty of christmas cash
results in a spontaneous purchase that he would never make with
his own money, yet has always coveted. the 'it looks good at
the store, but better on your floor' sleek-black case of a sony ps2.
a foolish thing, indeed, yet... so unabashadly self-gratifying.
kind of like pulling a yuppie off of a scooter, kicking him, stealing
his money, his girlfriend, and riding off with all of it on the bike.
(grand theft auto 4 is an alternate reality for those that really
loathe waiting for anything ...and just a darned good way to pass the
time on a rainy day.)
dec 14, 2002 - 22:19 - the future noone wants
i woke up this morning with but a few rainy day ambitions:
tasty lunch, maybe a jamba, and a cinematic distraction.
target for the afternoon; igby goes down.
sidenote: i've tried at least a dozen times to see this film, and
failed miserably in each feeble attempt. either the evening's
company opts for another, or the print's been damaged, or (...)
i set out humbly enough. TBA sandwich, large, wheat, to go.
( always paying in cash, they don't know my name, but they do know
orange. )
a quick drive to tabor for a volcano's view of the city: one bite, two,
then a couple finger presses to collect crumbs. reemploy sandwich
binding toothpick as lower-lip dangling james dean swagger, and we're orange
again.
parking lot duel, i'm at the mall to dance with fruit (mango tango) and
find myself deep in battle with consumer lemmings for pole position
bragging rights. eventually, i settle for second row, and stagger
inside.
they are everywhere. blank-faced, bag laden, even upset looking.
they clog doors, block escalators, hit me in the knees with swung shoe
boxes. they queue before me, an unnecessarily delay mango delight.
insult to injury: employee misblends, fumbles sacred recipe,
more delay, more shakes.
soon, the need is satiated, and i walk through chaos with foolish grin.
sears to nordstrom, i walk the walk. in stores, out
of stores. i can think of all the people i'd like to gift, but
not what they should be gifted. i'm not in the mood.
i'm bludgeoned with another shoebox. i leave.
outside again, in the rain again, shoulders relax, and i pull watch from
pocket to check time. --still need to burn another 2 hours for showtime,
but can think of little more to distract.
frustrated, bored, i stumble to the theater, and buy a ticket to the
next show that's playing. (don't care what it is, just let me
hide in the shadow of a story outside my own).
...it wasn't until i was in the theater that i realized my mistake.
only last week, i shook my head when i saw ads.. they're
making another one? when will they stop?
when will movie goers demand something more? ...yet,
there i was.
as an aside.. if you happen to be on the market for a geeky, frumpy
looking, middle aged white male, i would recommend that you go to the
nearest theater and purchase a ticket to Star Trek: Nemisis.
(if you're quick, you might find one in uniform)
inside, you will find them. carefully fanned out like school kids
on test day; every row, a nervous laugh. every other seat,
another shy addict, hiding from their families, their lives.
is this what i've become?
*shudder*
december 13, 2002 - 17:55 - how much you've grown
walking around today, i cannot help but to feel extraordinarily tall.
an understandable sensation, given all of the time i've spent on my
back lately. (getting old, and breaking down), but i'm truly shocked
by how quickly the brain grows familiar with staring at people from the
knees up.
it's kinda weird to see the bald spots again.
december 12, 2002 - 07:21 - the day the music died
then, on top of everything else, i find that even dots and loops can cry.
(
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/entertainment/2566949.stm )
december 6, 2002 - 09:05 - but hey, it's friday
after collecting meager morning rations in the company's cafeteria,
a small cluster of employees silently trudges up the stairs in
an earnest return to cuba, each heavy footfall bringing them a step closer
to the banalities of their respective employ.
three flights into their endeavor without a prior word, a breathless
thought suspended by it's irish accent: 'but hey,
it's friday'
amen curtis. amen.
( more )
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