There's a sign in the record shop, that's pillbox read, like my jeans, and reads 'Keep calm and carry on' and I'm looking at it, and thinking 'If only you knew'.
And I'm not really looking for anything really, just filling time before heading back to the office, and I'm certainly not looking for any CD's or DVD's because I don't own a single CD or DVD and don't wish to. And I'm wearing jeans because I can. And they are red, because I want people to think I'm a little bit different but I'm actually very 'middle of the road'.
I'm dialling a number, actually dialling from memory, on my phone, and it rings and no one answers, because no one picks up because my phone cuts the call after the second ring. But I keep the hand set next to my ear and walk towards the cashier, and I'm just thinking about how undesirable she looks, and how undesirable most of Bristol looks. And I'm just staring, trying to remove the awkwardness I've created by faking a phone call.
And now I'm in a book shop. One of the only ones left in town. I'm picking up Imperial Bedrooms and I'm flicking through the pages, and trying to find the mention of London Preppy, but can't. And I'd buy it, if it weren't hardback and larger than the other books I own. And the yellow dust jacket makes me feel sick. In the self-help section my phone receives several text messages all at once.
'I'll call you when I'm at Hong Ku Lou, Lunch? I'm in a client meeting until 1245 x'
'I'm outside, where are you? x'
'______, call HR when you get this.'
'I've been here twenty minutes now, I guess you're not coming.'
1 comment:
It's the red jeans; too 1988. And the phone. Haven't you got an iphone4 yet? That would make everything better immediately, I can tell you. I think they have an app for fake calls.
Frankly, it doesn't sound like you're holding up your end of the production/distribution/consumption economic triangle. No wonder you're miserable.
And eat more kale. And flax seeds.
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