Category: Circling the Drain

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Remember “malls” …

Remember going to that food court and ordering that REAL ITALIAN pizza slice, named after some Mexican killed in France?

Remember those FUN STORES with fake shit and whoopie cushions? You could buy your girl a mood ring and then test your love at the YMCA shower … those were days, mall rat days.

Some SCRYB is selling cell phone plans in the main hall, and he says “LISTEN UP VERN, YOU GONNA BUY THIS RINGLE DING” … and it’s all I can do to keep myself from braining this GUY with a baseball bat from DICK’S SPORTS.

I would go to Nordstrom’s and try on their spring/summer pastel button down BULLSHIT. I’d go home to my dorm room at the UW and watch GEORGE F. WILL mind fuck me with sideways “small government republican” tripe, as I drifted deeper into a personal abyss that almost destroyed me … but malls helped, amirite?

You remember going to the mall with RITA, and trying on the mascara-dick-wand at Frederick’s? – she would tease you with those strapless bras, and those tube tops, but you were her jizzum king, and she was your sandwich dream. You’d spend the day watching Woody Allen films and trying on skirts and shoes … she would … you’d pay. And by the time the sun was going down, you’d grab takeout from Old Style Panda Express, their motto used to be “Real Good Panda, Real Fast … Panda Express” … you’d get the Orange Panda, and she’d order General Tso’s Panda, and you’d make love in your studio apartment till the sun came up … somewhere.

The mall is where RICK broke your small ginger heart. He was big and strong and played football, he said he’d marry you one day. But instead he left you pregnant, and you’d just finished seeing Jurassic Park … so you think life is a shame. And Rick had his game and he ended up lame and washed up near S’compton. But your cat-spirit burned hot, and you made your way to Hot Topic for some new tees …

There was this store, at this one mall …

Called “S’kleeves”, and it only sold sleeveless clothes …

Gumbo freaks and EAST SIDE TOMMIES and various law enforcement would frequent S’kleeves for buying wife beater t-shirts and sleeveless coats and jackets … the same place would sell MERCURY LOVE POTION from the Philippines, and very abrasive rope, and cloth masks, chloroform …

I recall going to SEARS and buying a new bicycle … I rode and rode and rode down MUH ROADS all summer day long … chased by midget-squirrels and pettergast-flies … and the sun rose so high in the sky … and I was at peace, because of malls.

Malls were our AMAZON.

Malls were our INTERNET.

Malls were our SOCIAL NETWORK.

Malls is where we first contracted genital crabs …

Malls is where we bought smack from Birney.

Malls is where the world died.

Malls.

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DIESEL

“As diesel prices increase, the likelihood of government threats made REAL decreases.” – Dr. Freckles

BTW: if you don’t know that TRADE and MILITARIES basically run on diesel, how dumb are you?

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Laws …

“The bogus laws of men do not apply to any man of dignity.” – Dr. Freckles

And now think on what the elite did in 2020.

And what THEY got away with.

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A little slice …

So I’ve finished a couple days of work, haven’t really had to tutor much yet but I’m expecting my first victims to show up soon …

I’m tutoring and mentoring high school students, as prep for a career as a teacher.

Been thinking on the fictional writing project – “BIG FOOT WAR ONE” – and the first chapter that will likely be a back story, context, for all the grievances and issues, the moral justification for the war, and the initial plans. I can imagine the raccoon folk and crow/raven folk and the orca whales joining forces – the crow will be indifferent and cynical, as they enjoy the tossed out McDonald’s garbage that must invariably cease once the war begins.

My goal is to write one chapter a week – to attempt two “normal” sort of podcasts about “what’s up” and one podcast, or two, per week, on a chapter/serial basis. Sure, some might not get the idea of the Sasquatch, the forest people, the Yeti or Wookie, coming down from the slopes of the hills, filled with rage and glory, smelling of venison and pain … but some will get it, and if I can tell a good story, people will connect.

My boss and her husband have a property they manage for campers, “glampers”, and she offered to let my brother and I stay there – me in a camper, my brother in his truck but safer from boondocking and cheaper than the parks. It’s a real break from the running from one place to another, the frenzied search for SOMETHING LIKE what I left behind in Utah. But there is no replacing my friends Beth and Justin, there is no replacing their dogs, especially Boomer … I cry a little less now when I think about him, but I still cry.

So am I still circling about the drain? – sure.

Do I have some “solid plan”? – it would depend upon how you defined the word “solid”. I have a plan, I think I might want to teach. It would be great if I could make my podcast work, but maybe I suck, maybe I suck because I refuse to simply “entertain”. Maybe I’ll suck less if I tell mostly stories, because the reality of the situation is horrifying, best case, medium case, likely case. And, I know we’re being lied to on a historic scale, and the thing they are lying about is not good – that’s putting it in mild terms. But we keep going, we keep hoping, we keep dreaming, and we endure.

I could have avoided much of the “sturm und drang” of the last 6 weeks if I’d been able to simply pause, somewhere, for a few weeks … to take a sense of things. It’s a nice luxury for some that they can pause without falling off the social radar, without being cast, thrown, into the seemingly perpetual darkness that is STREET HOMELESSNESS … and the hatred directed at you because you simply made one too many mistakes … sucks to be you. If you HATE the homeless and you live in a city? – your rude awakening hasn’t arrived, but it’s coming. We could have made different choices, we could have CHOSEN NOT to treat housing or shelter like a financialized product – but our system tossed us a crooked bone, and so many, irrespective of political affiliation, picked up the bone. Should we be surprised that there is a boiling mass of human suffering below our feet? Rumbling, shifting, shaking the ground? – no, don’t be surprised when they show up at your door, and the cops show up to tag your bodies 5 hours later.

Yet – I have a camper, with a space heater …

I have the nature that surrounds me, and the bigfoot folk looking out for me or observing me … who knows what the forest people do.

I have food and water …

I have a radio and a Bible and Jesus looking out for me …

I have a lot to be grateful for, and I’m trying to remember that too.

I have a slice – not the whole pizza, a part of it, and for me it’s enough to keep going.

MIND JOURNEY: forgotten caverns of Nordstrom’s

  1. cleavage hustlers slink their way to the underwear department.
  2. bold pricks buy their briefs from Jerry.
  3. skleb-trolls wander the dusty way, talking up purses and handbags and wallets and departed friends lost at the Rack …
  4. Hoglon is leader of the retail death cult, he feeds on boob-cheese, he makes a bayonet wedding.
  5. Stugger-mugger jerk squirrel meat being sold near the coffee mugs, not far from the jabbering fools of fossil …
  6. PF CHANG’S is GONE …
  7. Mustard dog deacon’s are moving the juice for the crowded revelers, Orange Julius is being sued for ecoli
  8. Get your parrot suit on sale, and spy the next fall’s fashion – it’s grey and worn and red and deadly.