Bier de Stone (slavezombie) wrote,
Bier de Stone
slavezombie

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Track 12

(click for illustration)

Today I had to work. Yesterday was my day off. I went psycho shopping. I picked up some spinach, onions, cheese. Some soap, beer, and something that rhyms with tease. You know, in the back of my mind I'm always thinking I'll see her. Most everybody says at one time or another, that they saw so-and-so while shopping at the mall. Ooh, ahh. He or she is so much shorter than I imagined. Or taller as the case may be.

There I am shopping and wondering. Really day dreaming, not wondering. When I scope the immediate vicinity and notice that nobody really interesting is there, or nobody that would really be interested in me, I buy my junk and scat.

BTW, for the say of having a medieval moment. There is only thirteen days left for Los San Fermines de Pamplona.

I got home, unsatisfied that I can reason the importance of money when it comes to paying for a movie ticket to a film I already have on my TiVo, yet constantly be on the lookout for NBC4 news vans/trucks/SUVs. So I upgraded my lj plan. Big deal. Woohoo. It is a big deal! Whoot!!

Work wasn't so bad. An innocent looking customer came in behaving as naive as you can imagine. Imagine somebody going to the market for groceries because she's cooking a new recipe. Some of the stuff on the ingredients she's never heard of, so as she comes up to the cashier, she asks "Is this the right stuff?". While the flow of business is slowed to a standstill to make sure this customer is a happy camper, she pays her balance, thanks the cashier, then abruptly stops and says, "On the onion thingys you just helped me with… didn't I see a different brand for a cheaper price there?" Fortunately for me, a co-worker there noticed the customer and came to reassure me that it wasn't I who was being obnoxious.

I finally changed the selection of CDs I'm listening to on my way to wherever I go. God, it was about time. I had been devoting all my attention to practically meditating on the Morrissey songs. The last song in the album You are the quarry is here.


You Know I couldn't last
The whispering, May hurt you, But the printed word might kill you / The whispering, May hurt you, But the printed word might kill you / So don't let the blue, The blue eyes fool you / They're just gelignite, Loaded and aiming right between your eyes / CDs and T-shirts, promos and God knows, You know I couldn't last, Someone please take me home ¶ The teenagers, Who love you, They will wake up, yawn and kill you / The teenagers, Who love you, They will wake up, yawn and kill you ¶ So don't let the blue, The blue eyes fool you / They're just gelignite, Loaded and aiming right between your eyes / CDs and T-shirts, promos and God knows / You know I couldn't last, Someone please take me home / There's a cash register ringing and / It weighs so heavy on my back, Someone please take me home ¶ The critics who, Can't break you / They somehow help to make you / The critics who, Can't break you, Unwittingly they make you ¶ So don't let the good days, Of the gold discs, Creep up and mug you / With evil legal eagles, You know I couldn't last, Accountants rampant, You know I couldn't last / Every -ist and every -ism, Thrown my way to stay, And the northern leeches go on, Removing, removing, removing ¶ Then in the end, Your royalties bring you luxuries, Your royalties bring you luxuries, Oh but / The squalor of the mind, The squalor of the mind, The squalor of the mind, The squalor of the mind

Track 12. What in the world? When I wasn't in my mid twenties, I would make wishes blowing out candles, look up at night trying to spot a shooting star. I even looked up at night to see the first star to make a wish. I wished that I could find somebody like suzy. Who's suzy? That's another story for another time. In a nutshell, I come to realize that my attraction to Suzy developed from her resemblance to Ana's mother. Why would I have the hots for her? I didn't. I simply fell in love with the look many women were wearing when they cut their hair short and sassy. Everyone was doing it. I don't know if they were lesbians. At the time I liked it and I remember being hypnotized whenever a TV commercial for red infiniti Q45 ran because the cutest girl with short black hair I'd ever seen was in it. I never could get a date, let alone a gf, with somebody like that. Maybe women with short black hair are gay. Now I just think that my infatuation with that was the brief interaction when I met Ana's parents.

I remember her telling me that her mom liked to use the word "puta" a lot. [Don't laugh. We were teens.] That really scared me. In my family, nobody cursed. If I was heard cursing, shit… I would find myself wrestling for my life against my dad who, with the upper hand, held either his leather sole shoes, or a belt. No, my mother didn't get to cursing as much as she does now until after she had surgery done to remove an ulcer. Her doctor must've told her not to hold her anger in and let it out when it comes. I still feel melancholy about bumping in to her at work back in 2005. I think the whole world knows now how I feel about her.


Tags: illustration, music: morrissey
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