I Spot Fakes
Sometimes my brain is firing away, synapses blazing like pistons. At these times it is all I can do to hang on to where my brain makes connections.
Riding on the MAX yesterday, I decided to look at the two people across from me.
Person one: a Maynard. Sidepart, flannel shirt w/smokes in the pocket, white gym shoes w/ jeans, a moustache with one side longer than the other. Roughly 40 years old. In his hand, a Barnes and Noble bag from Lloyd Center, the small clear one. Inside the bag, one cd. Pearl Jam’s Ten. Since the bag was clear, I could see what he paid, 15.99. Almost 16 dollars for a cd that was bogus in 1992. I felt every emotion towards this guy. Sorrow, pity, humor, hate. I have heard there are three other emotions, but I haven’t felt them yet.
Person two: a Seahag. Middle aged female meth head, one exaggerated tooth in the middle of her lower jaw, not unlike a tooth that a mediocre cartoonist might render to enforce a notion that the subject is a baby, or perhaps a hillbilly. She had on a tattered Paige coat, with her 1985 vinyl purse resting atop one of those wire personal shopping carts ensconced entirely in plastic.
I wanted to walk over and hold both of their hands and introduce them to each other; Maynard, this is Seahag, and if you had an ounce of dignity you would not listen to that cd, especially if it makes you end up buying Mother Love Bone later, but instead you should take out the Seahag to lunch. In these trying times, she needs you. She needs you.
Alas, a good song by Nazareth came on my ipod, so I was not to be disturbed, but the Maynard got off the MAX at the Barnes and Noble stop downtown. I think he felt my emoticons, and decided to return the wasteful purchase. Hopefully he will run into Seahag again and the circle of life will be completed.
Riding on the MAX yesterday, I decided to look at the two people across from me.
Person one: a Maynard. Sidepart, flannel shirt w/smokes in the pocket, white gym shoes w/ jeans, a moustache with one side longer than the other. Roughly 40 years old. In his hand, a Barnes and Noble bag from Lloyd Center, the small clear one. Inside the bag, one cd. Pearl Jam’s Ten. Since the bag was clear, I could see what he paid, 15.99. Almost 16 dollars for a cd that was bogus in 1992. I felt every emotion towards this guy. Sorrow, pity, humor, hate. I have heard there are three other emotions, but I haven’t felt them yet.
Person two: a Seahag. Middle aged female meth head, one exaggerated tooth in the middle of her lower jaw, not unlike a tooth that a mediocre cartoonist might render to enforce a notion that the subject is a baby, or perhaps a hillbilly. She had on a tattered Paige coat, with her 1985 vinyl purse resting atop one of those wire personal shopping carts ensconced entirely in plastic.
I wanted to walk over and hold both of their hands and introduce them to each other; Maynard, this is Seahag, and if you had an ounce of dignity you would not listen to that cd, especially if it makes you end up buying Mother Love Bone later, but instead you should take out the Seahag to lunch. In these trying times, she needs you. She needs you.
Alas, a good song by Nazareth came on my ipod, so I was not to be disturbed, but the Maynard got off the MAX at the Barnes and Noble stop downtown. I think he felt my emoticons, and decided to return the wasteful purchase. Hopefully he will run into Seahag again and the circle of life will be completed.
posted by The Cruise at 9:42 AM
2 Comments:
My guess is that Maynard stole the CD at another Barnes and Noble and was taking it back to another for the cash. Who buys music at Barnes and Noble...not the folk you describe. Mostly rich liberals that think Barnes and Noble = coffee house.
Aw, I like Mother Love Bone. A lot more than Pearl Jam anyway.
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