Good-bye Blockbuster. Good-bye shitty job with shitty pay and even shittier hours. Good-bye Chris, and your ponytail, and your two litter bottle of Diet Dr. Pepper. Good-bye people who look lovely and could probably still be saved, but do stupid stuff like check out lame movies. Good-bye XXL long-sleeve tucked in shirt. Good-bye to people that don't fucking know better, that I'd like to show naughty things. Good-bye you and your stupid, is that a credit or debit card. Good-bye to it all. To all the fucking spiritually debilitating aspects of Blockbuster. Here's your shirt and your Lost Boys video back, now go shove them up your khakied ass and try to get off on it - try your damned hardest to experience the touch of something against your skin and wonder what exactly that means. Talk about the awesome shots when you recommend it to whatever customer asks you for a good movie to rent, reference other films, other directors of movies you saw when you should have been masturbating, and make that sell. Impress upon them, upon me, and upon yourself that you are culturally savy, and do it all with a smile. Because that, after all, is what customer service is about. Good fucking bye Blockbuster. Oh, and thanks for the free rentals.
Today, I spent at least four hours in the car. I know this because I listened to both of mix tapes all the way through and started to listen to the first one again. This morning, I went out to Springfield to go the dermatoligist. I then came home, picked up my sister, and dropped my sister off at work at Ben and Jerry's in Old Town. Then, I was off down Duke Street to the Alexandria Library to return the oodles of books I had been keeping of theirs. Then, further down Duke Street to Fresh Feilds, so I could buy some Dr. Brommers peppermint soap and deodorent. Then, back home, where I masturbated with the house to myself. Took a shower with the new soap. Dried off feeling so fresh and so clean clean as my friends Outkast would say, and headed off towards Kingstown to meet Sarah for coffee.
I talked to Sarah for so long there, about stuff which I now cannot even remember, it seeming so long ago. But, I remember that I was having fun and feeling comfortable, so it must have been a good conversation. Then she came with me to pick my sister up from work. My sister brought me some ice cream, which I devoured, it being so so yummy. Dropped sister back at home, and then headed to Tower Records with Sarah out near Landmark.
Inside Tower, we start looking at the magazines, and what do I see? Muffy! for fuck's sake. I screamed with delight and ran and showed it to Sarah, so so surprised to see this New College magazine for sale in this huge chain store deep in suburban Virginia. Still so so excited, I went through the magazine page by page, pointing out all the pictures to Sarah, telling her about "the indie kids." This sparked by the band pictures of LOB and Sam. I gushed at the Sam picture about how cute he was and how my roommate and I both had a crush on him. And, I remembered how much fun it all was. Memories of running around B-dorm with a huge, gross candle and making asses out of ourselves. And that was just one thing. There were so many. I think Sarah was kind of bored by my excitement about Muffy, but seeing it just made me so NC homesick, thinking of so many wonderful people.
Then I bought Bruce Springsteen's Nerbraska and Rufus Wainwright's Poses. Sarah knew one of the employee's and so we got a huge discount which was so sweeet. And that "sweet" didn't translate to well to print and perhaps that's a good thing. It was one of those long, extended sweeeets that stoner characters say in movies a lot. And so, really I don't know why I said it other then to be funny, and quite honestly I feel that you did not pick up on that humor at all and if anything, are probably a little annoyed by this attempt to explain why this usage of "sweeet" was humorous. But, you know what? If that's the case, then you can go fuck yourself with a Blockbuster shirt and a Lost Boys video, too. Anyone that gets in my way tonight can go fucking do that. I am in a feisty mood.
Fuck that. Not really. I lied - I'm in a tired mood. I listend to Poses and it put me to sleep. I just woke up right before I started writing this. Lullabies are always nice. And I sort of feel like going back into that state of sleep. And so, this is the end. -- Do you think that if I go to bed listening to Nerbraska, I will have really scary nightmares? I feel like I already may have them since I spent so much time reading online about Charlie Starkweather, and have read all the lyrics and now realize what a creepy album this is. But, nightmares may be fun. Take your kicks wherever you can get them.
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