Showing posts from November, 2006
The characters working at the nearest Cook County Jewel are more clearly defined to the eye — that is, when compared to the characters working at the nearest Lake County Jewel. There's something more cramped and haggard about that nearest Cook County Jewel, something less ordered and more spontaneous in the arrangement of things and people. In Lake County, while the selection is more diverse and abundant, the character is more homogenized and punctilious; and while the produce is fresher, the spirit is weaker. At the Cook County Jewel, I feel more at-home or more at-ease. In the parking lot, my car blends-in better. But somehow I find myself more frequently lodged between the Escalades and the Navigators parked before that Lake County Jewel; where I find myself wearing my heavy suede coat — the one you can't sneeze on without ruining its velvety nap. It keeps me warm, it doesn't weigh down my shoulders, it looks and feels expensive, it matches my hair and it matches my eye
Today, my eyes are cue-ball heavy. Normally, they're ping-pong light. My stomach is chewing me out for something I don't know what. My neck, rusted through, is bolted to my head. This is what happens the day after I don't sit straight.
You wanna know just how conservative this liberal's become? Last night he watched Top Gun — not because he hasn't seen it too many times already, but because (believe it or not) it's legitimate research. While he's watching, it hits him: Val Kilmer's character, "Iceman," he's not the asshole. It's Maverick who's the asshole. And, all these years before, this so-called "liberal," he was convinced that "Iceman" was the one. In fact, all these years before last night, he's held a grudge against Val Kilmer personally because of the outstanding job he did in that movie — the outstanding job, of being an apparent, but not a legitimate, asshole. Because, when you're a kid, you wanna be Maverick. You wanna be an asshole.
As it was with the daily brushing of his teeth and the weekly shaving of his face, jerking-off had become perfunctory; simply something to get out of the way.
Oh, how I hate , hate , HATE ! leaf-blowers! Have some Goddamned patience and let the wind take care of it!