Earlier today I found myself standing in line at the pharmacy at Walgreen's. The store was crammed with people, all searching for Hell knows what, moving up and down the aisles with their miniature shopping carts. Many had the Sunday flier opened up before them and were determined to find a good deal. They sell a lot of impedimenta at Walgreen's, like plush stuffed monkeys wearing Santa hats, plastic toys and Maxim magazine. Everyone there was carefully going about the business of being an American, which means they were buying stuff. And this is the time of year for it; a veritable crap-a-thon.
I was there to buy drugs, which is also fashionable, particularly around the holidays. I've been cuddling up with pharmaceuticals for years now, not to mention marijuana which I only occasionally get to enjoy. And alcohol isn't my poison, so I'm relying on patented molecules distributed by enormous corporations to get me through until January. I bitch about Thanksgiving and Christmas more than I should, though, considering I don't buy many gifts and never go to holiday functions. And on some level I suppose I'm happy that so many people get off on shopping at 4am. As far as I can tell, people really dig shopping. And like NASCAR, the attraction is mysterious.
Aside from the confusion over why people buy the shit that they buy, this time of year doesn't bother me, I suppose. Except for minor irritations, like how it gets dark at 1pm, and the way I have to dodge the Salvation Army whenever I go to the market. They do great work, but back the fuck off, man. If I want to give you money, I'll go over and give you money. And I feel so guilty when I stroll on by. I try to radiate affability, but that ain't easy. You go try to radiate affability. See? I told you. But at the same time I'm trying to seem gregarious and kind, I want to be left alone...with my change. But it's so difficult not to feel guilty coming out of FoodMeister with a 12 pack of Coke and a box of Devil Dogs, but no money for the collection tin.
Recently I discovered Diet Coke Plus, which is Diet Coke infused with b12, b6, magnesium, zinc and niacin. I think they used the term, "infused," which seems a bit generous. I think "dropped in the tank" is more accurate a description. As near as I can tell, though, this new product hasn't improved my life at all. I remain hopeful.
I haven't written much lately, but it's not due to withering depression, jail or rickets. I've spent a lot of time with my beloved, and things have been going pretty well. My tooth is killing me, and a complete stranger called me a "gelatinous pedophile" yesterday, which I think is one of the best insults I've heard in awhile. That's a long story, but I felt compelled to share. Also, I've been having merciless morning anxiety attacks that leave my heart pounding and mind racing. I need to work on that, but I haven't a clue about what to do.
I love you, Linda, and I miss you already. The small of your back exists in an enchanted realm, your body, a place I hope to visit again soon.
More later, Kittens.
1 comment:
Hey, I also feel guilty for not depositing my spare change in Sally's buckets. The fact that the Salvation Army rescinded domestic partner benefits for its employees a few years back helps me walk on by, though. I can think of a few other organizations whose policies I feel comfortable implicitly endorsing. The local homeless shelter, for one. I'm planning to give them a "holiday-time" donation, this year.
Post a Comment