1.5.18 (a brief sketch of self, from bed, managing with a neurotoxin, highlights of a shopping trip in America) 

Had to go to Wal-Mart to pick up carpet cleaner, a youngling had pissed on the floor and I did a half ass job cleaning it up apparently, so every time I walked up stairs I got a wiff of it. As I entered the megastore I got the first hit of whatever post-holiday dope they’re pumping through the furnace vents and by the time I had my cart, I could feel its effects running up my spine and infiltrating my cerebral cortex. 

I walked through the isles, unable to stop observing my fellow shoppers. Their resonances (the term of the week) stood out to me like neon drugstore signs. Depression. Avarice. Apathy. Homicidal rage. An ugly old woman, with leathery skin, like she’d been dipped in a vat of Camel Light juice spoke loudly on the phone. “That’s the thing Mandy, there’s always gonna be people fucking with you at work. No matter where you go, there will be someone who doesn’t like you.” Her eyes rolled  in her head like a cartoon slot machine. The characters were made up of dice, the skull and bones poison symbol, and a cocktail waitress with her dress hiked  up. 

I staggered my way to the pisser. I’d been chugging coffee to fight a headache and so the cart blocking the men’s room door was ignored. I stood there handling my business, taking deep lung fulls of whatever they were pumping into the place. In a haze I looked back to the cart blocking the door and there was the crunchy, hair sprayed back of a woman’s head. She was grunting, frustrated by some disgusting mess left in the waste basket. I ignored and kept on with my business. It seemed like it took forever and when I looked back again, she was staring at me. I stared back and kept at it, the dope had done away with any  inhibitions. She stared at me longingly as she kept trying to scrap the shit off the bottom of the white basket. 

She followed me through the store for the rest of my shopping. A veil had lifted and now all the mechanisms of commercial manipulation stood out to me. The consumers we’re on a conveyor belt, and the machines forced things unwilling into their carts. A mother and daughter, kept filling and unloading their cart with 1$/lb turkeys, left over from the holidays. A man sat Buddha style on the floor with his shirt off, a can of gasoline next to him, vaping. 

I got my items, carpet cleaner, paper towels, chicken, beef, salad. Whatever the machines told me to get. The cashiers face rolled, and swirled, and metals loops jumped from her lips, to her nose, to her ears, back to her lips. She invited me to an orgy in the break room, said I could put smiley stickers on her nipples while we did it, I declined, the way the cleaning lady was looking at me and licking her cracked lips was freaking me out. I smiled, said thanks, but no thanks and collected my bags. 

There was a shirtless Pygmy checking my tires as I loaded up. But as the freezing air started clearing out my lungs, he began to shimmer like a mirage, and blinked out of existence with a wink. 

4 thoughts on “1.5.18 (a brief sketch of self, from bed, managing with a neurotoxin, highlights of a shopping trip in America) 

  1. Ha, thanks for prompting me to look at this and appreciate the homage to Ralph Steadman there, at least the images/illustrations as it were. Good job making it clear you’ve stretched the bounds of reality (and torn them, in places). Nicely done. Very bizarre but sadly true to life. Bill

    1. Thanks, yeah I really like blending fact and fiction like this, there are lil truths in the lie, and lil lies in the truth. And big lies obliterating it all. Makes it interesting, I think. Love that I’m invoking Steadman, I’ve read a bunch of Hunter too, but I hate that son of a bitch now, with my third eye fully open and pulsating. He was bad dude, but a great liar.

      1. Hunter, that name just bespeaks danger. I had my fun with him but that was a long time ago. Do like the descriptions of his attorney and something about a grapefruit in the bath tub and their search for that brain-gland they wanted to consume.

      2. Yeah I don’t like how HST became a guru, dare I say Father Figure for my generation, in High School that movie with Depp was super popular and became something of a template for people around me. Upon further study, I realized dude was definitely a government agent and no one to emulate or respect. These were are generational leaders Pee-wee Herman, Tupac, and HST. Lord help us.

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