Macy’s, wait… Let’s be realistic, any shopping center (retail) ever is designed as a basic trap for humans; you can get in, but you can’t really get out. And they make it a hell of a time finding the bathroom.
Ever find a bathroom in one of these joints?
These are always the directions employees give:
Top floor behind the elevators, up 3 flights of stairs, to the right, to the left, across the hall, behind some displays, in front of some shelves, and behind a wall….
Obscure directions from an asshole associate. Something like actually 10 miles away on foot. Something like a puzzle. Something like get a better architect. Fuck.
Humans purposefully look for patterns in everything. It’s a fact, statistics proves it. Aren’t we all lucky? A winning streak? It’s a pattern.
And I keep walking, in search of a urinal, as though I am not about to piss my pants in public. I keep walking, looking at reflective glass, mirrors, and at the cameras that capture my frantically distraught imagine as the pressure builds.
Goddamn, you ever had to piss your pants in public?
Capsulated life; we live in the middle of it. I am in Slaughter House 5, I am in a Zoo on Tralfamadore, I am Billy Pilgrim.
Welcome to Downtown Minneapolis, welcome to every shopping outlet in the world. The holidays, the tradition of searching, purchasing, and giving; truly stuck in purgatory. I wonder if I am dead. This is capitalism at its very finest. Indulge.
It’s as if everyone should marry their true love and be happy forever.
Not really, real-life exists.
I enjoy real-life while driving my mother’s car downtown looking for a parking space, with my whole family in tow. An hour later and we figure out the parking meter, an hour later and our parking meter expires.
Tell me the convenience of this situation.
Working with the parking meter:
Find a spot, park the car, 1 ft from the curb, remember the number, lock the doors, find the meter box, slide the card, punch the number, get the ticket, the ticket doesn’t come, the box is broken, find a new box, slide your credit card again, punch in the number again, get the ticket, unlock the car doors, put the ticket in the window where it is visible, lock the doors again, remember when the meter expires, walk to destination, think about the meter and the time, smile…
And do we pay the natives for the land of which the parking space sits on? How about the earth for the emissions of driving and parking there?
We did all this while we were trapped in the freezing cold of Downtown Minneapolis…
On Holiday Shopping Again:
Fuck off, “Holly” at Macy’s, for trying to get my sister’s credit card debt up.
Good thing my real sister is cheap.
On Wedding Photos and True Love:
(I am thinking a before and after shot would be great right here.)
Just recently, I was invited to a wedding. Happens a million times when you are a guy like myself. You know what comes with this, right?
Save the date cards, photos, announcements, congratulations, exclamations-like we don’t believe them. And other traditional wedding happenings transpire, socially economical purposes aside, weddings are fun, and a great reminder that public display of affection can backfire.
(Then comes the part where I tell my mom that my friends are getting married and she wants me to get married and have kids, preferably to Doe, and relatively soon.
I feel it will happen when it happens. Life happens, but anyway. I am in love.)
What cracks me up is all wedding photos are of people appearing so happy, trying to look like this, this wedding, is exactly what they want. They are all the same.
An aside: 51 percent of all marriages in the United States fail.
This marriage is going to do it, this marriage will work. We will be officially American human beings. Almost as if they want others to believe it is the truth, it is right, it is meant to be, look at me!
In all honesty, I think it is sincere on both parts.
I think it is true; I think if you get married your life will become 100 percent better (factually, look up the numbers), and you will be completely ready to die with someone else by your side-not alone.
Look at the statistics on murder suicides in America, they are substantially higher between spouses.
(Dan thinks that people hope for happiness and this (the above suggestion) is completely cynical. “Well, not completely cynical, just a little cynical.”-Daniel)
I mean, who could be happier? These people are getting married, they are joining a Holy Union with their partner, in front of witnesses, with their significant others. Most important, it will last forever.
Something in this scenario reminds me of a saying: Too good to be true?
Its love, so idioms don’t count here. I have heard this a million times. Excessive use of idioms, how ironic? Off topic…
Honestly, if I am in love. I don’t need photos to prove it.
I look at these cards, pictures plastered on the front, and I think to myself; what if they had before and after wedding photos?
One photo set of the couple holding one another smiling (before), the other set of them in a court hearing, or split apart fighting for sole custody, or someone battered and crying, or someone handcuffed going to jail, or children being ripped apart, at the crossroads, confused, holed up in a motel room with a mistress, at a Christmas party pretending, while their spouse fucks a colleague, etc. (after)…
And I think, maybe people should think about what they do before they actually do it…
I remember specifically sitting at my eldest half-sister’s wedding telling my then (and now) girlfriend Doe, and my family, that the flask (which I was given as a gift for being an usher at their wedding) would out last the partnership…
My family laughed, because they understand me as a person, but I was serious. I try to be honest. It was unfair, but words didn’t change anything that was any part of their relationship.
Guess who still has their partner in crime?
The flask is shinier than ever, and still useful. It keeps me warm in the winter time and I cherish it. The date 9/15/07 is engraved on the side. My half-sister was divorced 3 years ago. So it goes…
Still On Wedding Photos and True Love:
Before and after photos would be great, because for as much cheese that goes into the before photos that much more in truth would go into the after photos.
It should be a way of warning people, like don’t do this shit.
Maybe some people are ready for the plunge, maybe they should just find someone they are happy with and live with them for 5 or 10 years.
That test works. I can hardly live with a significant other for more than 2 years, mostly less.
Who gives a shit about photos, or what other people think anyway?
A picture is worth a 1,000 words, but so is divorce court.
Random Ideas and A Last Word:
My day consists of kicking my family out of the house, doing 8 minute abs, and harassing my roommate for searching winter bikes on Craigslist. A basketball program is playing on the television, via streaming media, in the background.
You have to stand up for yourself.
And Since it Doesn’t Matter:
A Rave Review of My Work:
“I’m sure you’ll express your emotions in writing and I am going to do all that I can to not read any publicly shared stories or poems..
For being such a cornerstone of who you are it still boggles my mind that you chose not to discuss your work with me.
I read it all.
Fact or fiction… I still don’t know. At this time it shouldn’t matter.”
I love you all for reading.