a word dump

from an old profile:

It may, after all, be the bad habit of creative talents to invest themselves in pathological extremes that yield remarkable insights but no durable way of life for those who cannot translate their psychic wounds into significant art or thought.
Theodore Roszak, "In Search of the Miraculous"

a story from work tonight i posted on /fb/'s wall:

This story is dedicated to Brand Cook.

This evening at work, I went to take my customary 15 minute break. After helping a bevy of customers that night, including a very smelly Bulgarian guy who tried to ask me out clubbing because we had spent twenty minutes talking about shittons of eletronic artists we knew/liked, two miniature people (they weren't midgets, they were just very small and with sped up sounding voices) who bought that Stone Cold Steve Austin action movie, and a friendly black guy who is mentally challenged and who huffs loudly while listening to music, I was going to relish those short 15 minutes of respite.

I grabbed my book (a short non-fiction work about sociopaths, which I spied on a display table and picked up because I'm fairly certain Willy Christie is at least partially sociopathic) and went to a quiet reading area in the store. I sat down opposite a Negro gentleman. After about three minutes of reading, two faggy emo-ish teenagers shuffled up, laughing stupidly about a book they had. I don't have anything against teenagers - I'll even sell foolish ones Fall Out Boy albums with a smile - but I HATE disruptive people. Anyway, they were guffawing and falling over one another - I actually gave them a longer glance than usual because I thought they might be gay - when the fat one said, "Move over, I wanna sit down and have it NOT be totally gay HURR HURRR."

Their book turned out to be something cleverly entitled "Pot Culture." So they sat together in the comfy chair, chuckling and talking with one another about their no doubt many and varied experiences with OMG WEED. "See that's the ettiquette" ... "Yeah I want to use a carb like that, next time I guess" ... "Oh dude it was so funny haha" ... "Yeah this one time we did this, and used vodka instead of water, it was sweet" ... At that last one I finally got fed up and said, "It's called a smoother when you do that." The Negro opposite me immediately let out a surprised laugh (WE MAY ASSUME HE TOO IS A TOTAL BADASS AND SMOKES MARIHUANA!), while the teenfags just stared at me not knowing how to react. I continued, "So if you guys want to go somewhere in the store where it's okay to have a conversation and not this quiet area, that would be awesome."

They got up, looking uncomfortable and unsure, and started walking away. Then the thin one made some courageous zing about the water I was drinking and had dripped on my shirt. Well fair's fair I guess, I let him have that one. The young Negro gent laughed again and made a remark indicating his surprise. I said, "Well I work here, so I guess I kind of feel entitled." He was like "Dang, remind me not to have a conversation around you," laughing. We went back to reading and I finished my break in peace. Then I went back to work and had an awesome conversation with my coworker about using lavender and rose flowers in desserts.

[fin]