July 25, 2000.  Tuesday

    I hate shuffling.  The as-a-part-of-the-parade-of-slow-people kind.  Coming out of the subway, exiting in a crowded shuffle, shuffling to the stairs, shuffling up the stairs, more shuffling on the upper level.  It's depressing.  No one talking, just trying to get where they're going, which is usually work.  Or home, after a tough day at the office.  It's not the work part of the smell or the mindlessness of it all that really irks me.  it's the slowness.  A mindless shuffle is so much worse when you have to do it slowly.  Everything just sort of slows down, your steps, your thoughts, your breathing.  It's like you're in sleep mode, just blindly following the jerk in front of you.  There's something sort of dehumanizing about it really.  It was even worse today, with all the rain and people with their giant umbrellas.  It's really the short people with the canopy-sized umbrellas that are the worst. At least tall people can raise them above you.  But the little people are usually the ones with the umbrellas that have a diameter about the wingspan of a California Condor.  It's impossible to get by those bastards.
 

    So anyway, I'm sitting here at work, feet relatively moist.  My Simple shoes don't really keep water out like they should.  And of course there are little puddles everywhere in the poorly-paved streets of New York.  And the pathetic little umbrella I have is almost useless.  It's actually Rodzilla's umbrella. I only really keep it around I think because it has a little flashlight on the end. That's keen.  Rodzilla's, meanwhile, has an umbrella that was in my until-yesterday spare room, which I think may belong to Jen, who was looking all over the place for it a few weeks ago.  So Rodzilla has Jen's and I have Rodzilla's.  Ah, the circle of life.

    It's too bad more things can't be called off on account of rain.  "And the market closed today on account of a slight drizzle."  Maybe the TV weather would be at the front of the news.  Maybe people would start making money speculating on the weather. Then maybe we'd have more money invested into providing accurate weather forecasts.  Not that it all matters that much.  What i do and don't do doesn't have all that much to do with weather of non-Biblical proportions.  Anyhow, I was just thinking about that while walking to work in the rain this morning.   I wouldn't have minded if instead of going to work or school of rainy days, I was forced to sit in my living room, drink tea, eat buttered and jellied toast, and read a book.  Then maybe a shower, some tv, then lunch.  And after lunch, a little siesta, wake up, and plan dinner.  Almost a perfect day.  Not really, but you can't really ask for much more on a shitty rainy day.
    You know what my problem is, my fantasies are only slightly beyond the realm of my everyday boring life. If i'm gonna imagine a great day of no work, why the hell am I wasting my time with this tea and toast shit?  A really great day would involve a large sum of cash, a sunny day, some tasty take-out, unfortunate things happening to people i hate, and me gaining the ability to fly.  Of course, I'd use my newfound wealth and superpowers for good.  A chivalrous, generous Me isn't too much of a fantasy, is it?
    That's really the thing.  I know that if I had a wad of dough, I'd be super generous with it.  It'd be like Brewster's Millions. Jed and I also have a 50% Windfall Agreement, that if one of us comes into a large hunk of cash, save through inheritance, that we give the other half.  It's worth the risk I think.  And I wouldn't mind splitting it. I think. Of course, it's easy to say that now, but I think i'd stick to it.  My 5 dollar psychic confirmed this for me the other day. She said I'd always be very generous with my money, especially if I had a lot of it.   The psychic, by the way, got a lot of things dead on.  How could she know so much about me!? That's amazing! I feel like she's known me my entire life!    anyhow, she has a little room down the street from Rodzilla's school. She had a cigarette in one hand, and used her left hand to alternately cover her mouth when yawning and to scratch her armpit. Her left armpit. So she was sort of simian looking as she scratched her left pit with her left hand.  She was sort of simian in build as well. But the fortune seemed hopeful, so I'm willing to believe that good things come in strange packages.  Like Pringles, or Orangina, or donated organs.

Mail to G-Rock
DA&R home
Past Aggravations and Regrets
previous| next
South Pole
 

©2000 ThreeMatchBreeze