(no subject)
Har! So I took my paycheck from Tiernan's over to B of A (those would be the people couldn't get my address right for two years) and attempted to cash it. (these would be the people who were too drunk to train me, subsequently firing me). You guessed it: insufficient funds. So I'll have to go back tomorrow and try again. Why is it when the little guy screws up (ie my 2004 tax forms) he has HELL to pay, but when the big guys screw up, we're basically just supposed to understand? Sorry, but it's a bureacracy, try and understand bub!
What else.. John and I went down to San Jose this week. We wanted to go exploring, and check out some of the old haunts that were around when we grew up there, in the 1970's. "Angelo's" was still there. It was couched in this ugly, peach geometric shaped shopping mall. What is it with these new strip malls? They all look like some giant monster retard kid with giant Playschool building blocks built them. Anyway, Angelo's was the same. It had the same 10-ton Coloniel style door on it, and inside it was all fake grapes and bad oil paintings just like I'd remembered it. It's odd to return somewhere where you haven't been in a long time, (n this case, 30 years). Driving down a street for instance, you may not have a literal recollection of that neighborhood, but your eyes will fall upon certain objects and structures as they move by there's a familiar rhythm about them, a seeming rightness and you begin to interpret them as landmarks even though an actual memory is just out of reach. But walkig around in Angelo's, I would recongnize specific things, they were all just around where my stomach is now: the front of a jukebox, a gumball machine.. the side of a table... and it's funny, because, the layout of this place has essentially been frozen in my memory and as a location where my dreams take place and it got all switched around where I was almost entering a series of dreams from the past 30 years as opposed to an actual place I used to go...
What else.. John and I went down to San Jose this week. We wanted to go exploring, and check out some of the old haunts that were around when we grew up there, in the 1970's. "Angelo's" was still there. It was couched in this ugly, peach geometric shaped shopping mall. What is it with these new strip malls? They all look like some giant monster retard kid with giant Playschool building blocks built them. Anyway, Angelo's was the same. It had the same 10-ton Coloniel style door on it, and inside it was all fake grapes and bad oil paintings just like I'd remembered it. It's odd to return somewhere where you haven't been in a long time, (n this case, 30 years). Driving down a street for instance, you may not have a literal recollection of that neighborhood, but your eyes will fall upon certain objects and structures as they move by there's a familiar rhythm about them, a seeming rightness and you begin to interpret them as landmarks even though an actual memory is just out of reach. But walkig around in Angelo's, I would recongnize specific things, they were all just around where my stomach is now: the front of a jukebox, a gumball machine.. the side of a table... and it's funny, because, the layout of this place has essentially been frozen in my memory and as a location where my dreams take place and it got all switched around where I was almost entering a series of dreams from the past 30 years as opposed to an actual place I used to go...