2004-02-09 - 1:58 p.m.

Damn.

I can't freakin' believe I missed Assassins.

You know what I blame this on the breakdown of?

Society.

That's right. If society wasn't twisted like a merry widow in the grip of a longshoreman, than a brilliant musical featuring the cheery anthems of a half-dozen folk who made their reputations by having a go at the Commander-in-Chief would not be packed to the rafters with sensation-deprived Survivor-watching Babbits who have taken all the good seats.

After a long struggle with the terror-stricken American people who were afraid to even let a movie with the title The Two Towers out into the world following the events of a burning autumn, Assassins finally made it. Aside from appearing on Broadway, everyone's favorite murderers were having a ball at the Venice Little Theatre, and if the stupid Weekly Planet would put the word out about these momentous events sometime sooner than four days before the show was scheduled to close, I damned sure would've gotten tickets. But no. It'd been sold out for weeks, and now it's gone.

Blood and bloody ashes.

At least I still have my Original Cast Recording to keep me warm.

Man, that's the kind of dreamstuff Broadway is paved with. Broadway is paved with dead assassins.

...

Man. That was a weird weekend. And it made me realize that I have no love for and no place in this "outside world". I hate and fear it. It makes me want to vomit in terror. Or maybe just vomit because I had 14 beers. Either way. Stupid outside world. Damned people with their damned emotions and their damned interpersonal tensions and their damned leather pants and their damned mysterious rum bottles and their damned eerie laughter and their damned jungle boogies and their damned glowing earrings and their damned hiccups. That's it. I'm putting this in down in cold, hard print so you can take it to the bank, withdraw your hat from your safety deposit box, place it in said hat, and proceed to alarm the bank tellers by smoking it.

I am never leaving this house again. Ever. Not once. I've got a relatively new water filter, and after I exhaust the canned goods and flour and drink all the soy sauce and eat all the tarragon, I can survive off of plants which I can reach from the windows. Maybe I can drop some orange and some green pepper seeds out the kitchen window by the trashcan, into the fertile garbaceous soil, there to flourish amidst the sodden Ovaltine grounds and ancient salmon cans, and eventually form a strange and delicious new crossbreed, ideal for chutney.

Hmmm. But I might need more Easy Cheese.

Okay. Fine. I'll leave the house to go shopping. That's one block to Winn-Dixie and half-a-block to my choice of two drugstores, along with a Goodwill and a video store. I've got everything I could need within a few moments' walking distance, and I can keep headphones and sunglasses on to minimize contact with the hated outside world.

Hmm.

But even with my bank account in relatively good health and my impressive lines of credit, I'll eventually face some serious thumb-bending and kneecapping if I don't come up with funds to cover my purchases. Fortunately, I have a job in a bookstore, and a bookstore is already somewhat displaced from the rest of the world. Moreover, my position affords me the freedom, nay, the responsibility, to sneer at the hapless, bumbling idiots who come into my domain, fumbling their grande hazelnut lattes all over The South Beach Diet and dripping greasy cookie crumbs into the crevice of The Girl with the Pearl Earring. That sort of mental distance will enable me to thrive in a semi-outside-world environment.

And of course I'll want to swing by the French bakery occasionally. And maybe the library for those puppeteering lectures in the summer.

Other than that, that's it. No more. The outside world has nothing to offer that my home, supplemented by my place of employment, the grocery store, the drugstore, the video store, the thrift store, the library, and the occasional French bakery cannot offer in and of themselves.

Man. You people are messed up.

*****

[ Previous 5 Sites | Skip Previous | Previous | Next ]

This RingSurf New College Diaryring Net Ring
owned by Wheel! Of! FISH!.

[ Skip Next | Next 5 Sites | Random Site | List Sites ]