Whenever I'm in a certain state of dissatisfaction, I always go downtown to explore the little shops, and
maybe pick up a few used CDs to bring me up. That's exactly what happened on Janurary 9th, but to explain what drove me there,
I need to specify what's been going on in town. I went from two hugely-consuming jobs to one job on probation, and I'd just
concluded a job fair with about fifty newly-landed immigrants. Oh, and my friend had been murdered
Yeah, there's nothing a deeply upsetting murder to start off the New Year. The whole damn
city was looking for her, and I swear, I've never seen thousands of strangers put in so much effort for one woman. It
was big enough for two radio stations to issue an apology when they announced it.
So I wasn't very content with things. I headed downtown to Money Express, a pawn shop run by a classy group
of Chinese brothers, and headed back to a bus stop. That is, until a wild-eyed tiny old lady with a wheeled hamper suddenly
thrusted a pamphlet into my right hand, only murmuring, "Here." This is generally how horror movies start.
So I started my way across the street to get away from Crazyface, and folding it out, this is what it looks
Bloody nora! You've already decided that of the three people crossing the street with me (a heterosexual
couple and an old man with a bike), I'm the only one of them whom is so submerged in sin that I need a Xeroxed pamphlet,
and you think 3.5 pt. size font is going to convert me? Mind the lot of you, I actually am fairly religious, and probably
the most chaste member of the four crossing the street. The only explanation for why she gave me the pamphlet
may have been what was in my bag:
A $2 pack of pig-shaped salt and pepper shakers, and the Prince CDs "Graffiti Bridge", "Come", and "My Name
Is Prince" maxi-single. I got into Prince around this time, since he was Yasuyuki Okamura's hero until 1991, even though
I can't look at Prince's leering face for long without feeling like he's coming for my genitals. The Graffiti Bridge soundtrack is
in there too, because the only way to enjoy Graffiti Bridge is to get the soundtrack and pretend there is no such thing as
a Graffiti Bridge film.
So which of these drew Crazy Lady to me? Did she smell Prince's overwhelming sexual vibe and think I was
returning from the craziest prairie orgy of the 21st century? Did she take offense in how my pig shakers were living together
in interracial harmony? Did the ancientness of the CDs open up a portal to 1993 and send me a classic fundy? Or, did
she sense that I'm really just a naive nerd and give me the pamphlet as a prompt to carry on her missionary duties before
she turned back into a cloud? I'll never know.
Let's take a look at this thing.