Famous In The Smallest Of Circles.

This weekend involved a baseball game and two independent feedings at Taco Time because if I haven't said it enough in the last few weeks I am fucking worth it. 

Despite my best efforts in scheduling my baseball spectating away from the Safeco Field kids appreciation day I ended up selecting tickets next to some desperate hipster and his spastic kid whom could not sit through 3 hours of what was an unquestionable blow-out by the Tribe. The guy had the kid wearing a Sub-Pop baseball hat and thought that it would be cool, but the kid was not having it, and I could not blame him. It is not the first time this summer that I had to sit next to breeders thinking their replicants would behave themselves sitting through what is obviously an adult activity. But please, allow me to slow down for you and get out of your way as you wheel your byproduct of unsatisfying sexual intercourse and domestic resentment down the sidewalk because it's all about you and the ever-creeping low-grade depression.

Yesterday was a lovely day and I just couldn't stay away from the bookstore. It was completely empty when I entered, but it would not stay that way. One by one people came in, and unsurprisingly, and despite the wide variety of books on offer, the books they were invariably interested in were located awkwardly close to the one section I was perusing.  

One gentleman came in with his female roommate because it became immediately apparent from his accent and the effort he spent cruising me that they rarely if ever have sex. It was also apparent that he never goes anywhere alone or in any way where it may seem awkward for him to be talking out-loud about how well read he is.

"Hey, do we have a copy of The Conservative Mind?"

"What?"

"The Conservative Mind by Russell Kirk. Do we have a copy of that?"

"Um. I don't think so.."

"Oh gee. It is nine dollars."

"That's not bad."

"Yeah it is!"

"I mean it isn't bad for a piece of political theory."

This is the shit I have to sit through at the bookstore. High volume smarty pants posturing of some convenience rent sharing couple who sold all their college textbooks a few years ago to buy weed, but now that they have a little scratch saved away they are looking for a way to claw back their erudition and easily impress anyone unfortunate enough to come over to their place for drinks who stand anywhere near the centrally positioned bookcase packed with scarcely worn obscure literature.

I'm sure you've read Godel Escher Bach, but if you haven't you are already diminished in my eyes so do yourself a favor and take this copy that has been underlined by someone else.

I just can't. I grab my copy of Nancy Mitford and help the cashier count my change before taking in the rest of the Market misfortunes. Then I read and plan my trip back to LA and wait expectantly for Flight something something something.