It's Not JUST Me
...who lives his life according to references to Bill Murray movies.
In the lift coming down to check-out was a mature UA pilot, who sighed and said to his buddy, "I feel like this is Groundhog Day! Every day it's more of the same."
I asked him how long he had been here. "Eight days," he sighed.
Wow. Only one night by myself and nearly I freaked out.
"Did you enjoy the sushi?" asked his friend.
"I don't do that shit," he replied.
Well yeah in that case Tokyo is going to get to you sooner rather than later.
Major attack of the big sleep-in (missing breakfast) and then got a rerun of the sore feet issue again this morning. I only had three hours before my aiport bus left, so I only had time to get as far as Shinjuku to do any shopping. Even then I forgot where the Kinokuniya was and wandered around for an hour, lost, limping. Found Tower Records instead, but nothing interested me. They had no Ritchie Havens, which I have been looking for for ages since I gave my only CD away as a Christmas present last year. Is there anything I need, anything I want, other than pain-free feet right now?
Zero success rate on the two tasks I set myself for this trip; art books and fish market.
Must get back onto the B6 tablets for the painful feet, try to halt the damage to the nerves. They haven't been this bad for ages, so obviously the 6 months I spent taking the tablets had kept progression of the neuropathic degeneration in abeyance and the month or so off them has allowed the antibody bastards to resurge their pedal destruction, their footsore melee. (Or malaise, as I at first typed.)
There is only one set of shoes I can wear for work now (black Reebok air-soled trainers), and even these are not preventing the pain.
Suicide may be the only option. But I'll wait till after the parties.
Like the old joke - Police interviewing friend of missing person:
"Would he be capable of suicide?"
"Nah, that's the *last* thing he'd do!"
OTHER MONKEYS SAID
ritchie havens? seriously? his stuff is available on amazon...what are you looking for? or am i being too literal?
*ouch*re the footies, sugar!
richie havens, i meant...
*note to self: no commetning when hungover*
How did I spell it? OK no T. No wonder it didn't come up on the Tower catalogues... I want to get as much of his Dylan interpretations as I can.
Yeah, yeah, Amazon, blah blah... Where's the fun in that? It's the thrill of the multinational hunt, the look of confusion on the record clerk's face when he doesn't recognize something that's potentially cool from an era before he was born... Sort of a reverse "High Fidelity" moment. I live for those tiny glimpses of triumph.
Last CD of his I found was in Readings a seriously pretentiously tragically hip bookshop (and music shop) in Melbourne. You have to show your Age Book of the Year Award nomination just to get in the door and pick up your ristresso macciato. Or be an astral hippy intellectual. Or wear predominantly black. Or be a Uni student (MelbU is just around the corner) Most people in Carlton get all four ticks.
I pretend I'm only there to read the meter.
Speaking of High Fidelity moments, as a young pretentious but insecure pup I picked up a copy "The Best Of Modern Something Short Fiction" from Picador at Readings (the OLD store on the other side of the road) and the guy looked distainfully first at the book then at me and said, "My, that's an old one, I'll give you a discount" as if older collections of modern stories were not as worthy. Or as if I was a dumb-arse for not having it in my library already... So I was cut to the quick, still feel the pain, part of my book-buying compulsion comes from that instance... but sucks to him, because where else would I have found the brilliant and cryptic Julio Cortazar short story that Antonioni's Blow Up was based on?
the thrill..of course! i should have known...pardon my hungover literalness earlier...i know that feeling...being on the search for a particular thing...and then the serendipitous finding/discovery of something you didn't even know you had to have...