I always knew my parents were strange as a child, but it wasn't until adulthood that I realized how truly bizarre my upbringing was. See, both of my parents had an oppressively conservative upbringing where wholesome family values were maintained with an iron fist. They ate dinner as a family unit every night, no TV past 7:30, and under no circumstance would they ever discuss anything remotely unpleasant. Well my parents' believe that this practice stunted their development, so they decided to do the exact opposite when they raised me and my sister. While they did enforce certain ground rules, I was always more than encouraged to learn about and then discuss my views on sex, drugs, violent movies, the concept of mortality, and anything else that pre-adolescents like specifically because their parents don't want them to know these things even exist. So when I turned twelve, of course they started leaving porno magazines in the bathroom. At the time I thought it was just a coincidence, until my parents, BOTH of them, lectured me on masturbation technique. The lecture seemed planned, like they wanted it to introduce the concept, let that sink in, then maybe a quick anatomy lesson, a few basic motions to get me started, and proper sperm disposal. But they kept arguing over details that were at the time completely over my head, like "If he always uses lotion it's gonna train him to get off too fast and he won't be able to hold down a relationship and he's gonna wind up committing hate crimes" or "That's gonna make it so he can only do girl on top"... I noticed they were always quietly hovering outside the bathroom door. Over the course of the next month or two, they repeatedly assured me that the magazines were in the basket next to the toilet for my enjoyment. My dad would wink at me and say, "Hey, I like the articles too, son!" like I was supposed to know what the fuck that meant! Most parents treat their kids like dogs or drunkards they are placating until they sober up into adulthood, my parents treated me like I was their buddy.
All the kids in school would make jokes about jerking off. Admitting it to their friends was a relief, the relief of admitting something they were made to feel ashamed of. Oh what I would give to know what it was to be ashamed of something natural! One kid said that the skin was bunched up in folds at the base of his dick like a Shar Pei because he was jerking off so much. Whenever he came back from the bathroom, a few of his friends would make this gushy sound with their lower lips and fingers that I assumed was what it sounded like when people jerked off. This gave me an idea. So whenever I was alone and I knew my parents were standing outside the door, I would make sure my door was locked and I'd sit on my bed and make those gushy fake masturbation sounds with my mouth. It must have worked because the questions stopped, and soon I found a shelf unit sound system in my bedroom that I never asked for, ostensibly so my parents wouldn't need to hear me "jerking off" anymore. It was the closest thing to shame I had ever felt, and I loved it!
As far as actual masturbation goes, I remember thinking how gross the whole thing seemed, and wondering why it is such a big deal. I was already freaked out by my new pubic hair, so the thought of anything other than pee coming out of there made my blood run cold.
Midway through that summer, the family packed into a van and drove up to the mountains for a family re-union at my grandparents' house. It was several days full of idyllic memories chasing crayfish under rocks, eating burnt diner pancakes at 6 AM before spending the day hiking, etc... by Sunday I was completely spent lying in the guest room full of aches and bruises as I looked at the old picture framed advertisements hanging on the walls. I was sharing a room with my dad. He comes in and after a few pleasantries brings up a subject I thought had been dropped long ago. "So you haven't been alone this whole trip, bet you must be jonesing for some privacy, eh?" I told him I already "took care of" what he was referring to, as though I took out the trash or mowed the lawn. "Oh, ok. You didn't use one of your socks, did you? I think you're all out of clean ones..." I told him I used a few tissues. "I don't see any tissues boxes in here." I was getting annoyed now, I told him I got them from the bathroom. "I don't see any tissues in the waste basket, either... are you lying to me?" I was tired, achey, and probably itchy from where my armpit hair was starting to grow. So I snapped. "Well... fuck you, dad, leave me alone! Maybe I'm just not in the mood!" My parents had a fairly traditional stance on swearing, especially when directed toward them. He used to stutter when he was this mad, but now he just adds unnecessary pauses and closes his eyes: "What did... you ... just ... say?" My dad tends to dole out impulsive and random punishments when he looses his temper. When my older sister was 15, he made her go on two dates with a guy she'd just broken up with because she went over her texting limit while they were dating that month. He calmed down and said, "You are going to stay in this room and masturbate, and you are going to give me the tissues when you're done. I'll come back here in half an hour and you had better produce something for me or else." I could barely make a fist from skipping rocks all day, and there were no magazines around for me to even try using for "inspiration". I thought about spitting into the tissues and handing that to him, but I didn't know if that would work. I started stroking myself and thinking of girls from TV and movies, girls I liked in school, girls with proportions I had imagined... but none of it was connecting to any real immediate sexual feeling. Then I looked at the old advertisements on the wall. Sure, the photos were black and white, but there were a few post cards with cute island girls wearing straw skirts... a magazine cover with a woman who was sorta pretty but was making a goofy face that I guess was sexy in 1957... and then there was a more elaborately framed dress ad with a woman who was giving me a very welcome stare. Her face was so approachable, as though I could meet her in real life and we could fool around or whatever. Her breasts were full and less pointy than the other breasts on the wall, so I could actually imagine what the nipples would look like in the context of the whole tit... I could see them shimmy gently as I pushed her legs apart and eased my cock inside of her... I had no idea how that would feel in real life, but I realized at that moment it must be some powerful stuff because I immediately ejaculated right over the one tissue I was holding, all over the side of the bed into my dad's open suitcase. I just stared at the mess as my posture deflated, thinking, "Wow, that's a lot! Did all that come from me? That's... awesome!" I used the tissue to clean up my mess and once my dad approved, it was time for dinner, which I planned to rush through and then go masturbate again while the room was still unoccupied. I sit at the table and take very little from each dish that passes by. It may not be an official rule, but it is implied that I am only to contribute to the dinner conversation when directed to do so. Maybe I'm a gentleman or maybe I just wanted to enrich my first consummated sexual fantasy with some details, but I wanted to get more information about the woman in the old dress ad. I didn't want to ask directly though, so I just talked about how much I liked those old ads hanging on the walls. My grandmother laughed and said, "Oh yeah, when you get old you tend to accumulate a lot of junk," and she paused to glare at my grandfather, then continued "I had such a hard time getting him to throw out any of those old magazines, so we compromised: he got to decide which clips we keep and I'd frame them and send the rest to recycling! Of course, that's why they're mostly pictures of pretty girls!" The old man was a shameless lech who went to great lengths to check out and make crass comments at anything, even girls in TV commercials. When I was little I used to say "She can't hear you, grandpa!", before I realized it didn't matter. My grandmother continued, "Oh, except for that old dress ad in the golden frame. That was from my short-lived modeling career, year before I met your grandfather." I gave my dad an unmistakable panicked look, and he interjected, "Uhh, you mean the one in the guest room that we're staying in? In the golden frame? Closest to the door? Polka-dot dress? That one?" My grandfather slouched in his seat and with a proud guttural groan he said, "Yep. That one."
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Rainbow Unicorn
Immediately before he went to bed, Mark purchased a coupon: $10 for $17 worth of food from groupon.com to this new downtown vegan cafe called The Rainbow Unicorn*. The terms and conditions for the coupon are as convoluted as the relationship he just got out of and therefore a liability if used in the presence of others, but he is determined to use it on a date regardless. See, his ex was as finicky, uptight, and judgmental as they come, so he was trying to find someone more laid back as a rebound. The type who would enjoy a vegan restaurant and wouldn't get bent out of shape if he used a difficult coupon. Imbued with his new purpose to distract him from the pain he'd recently experienced, Mark was kept awake by thoughts of wide-eyed girls with colorful clothing, directionless conversations and laughter, and condition-free sex with no follow-up questions aside from those with no wrong answers. Despite the restlessness, he woke up well before any hippie chick he could imagine would and read up on current events so he would have something to talk about other than heartbreak and consumer electronics.
That morning on the light rail, Mark didn't even need to try maintaining the enlightened glow he was rehearsing that morning in the bathroom mirror, which is for the better because it actually looked more like a self-righteous smirk than anything else. Most men bemoan the way beautiful women only seem to notice them when they are in committed relationships. While this may be true, there are other instances where men appear downright radiant to the opposite sex, and those times are never mentioned because they aren't as much fun to complain about. One example of this radiance is the phase Mark is in right now. Mark is glowing and perfectly content not because of a woman, but because of himself and his joyful anticipation. He experiences bliss almost equal to a sexual release just from taking a deep breath and fixing his posture. It feels like his spine extends and pushes his head up to the ceiling, and when he opens his eyes he meets the relaxed smile of lips so pouty that such a smile should appear forced, and wide sapphire eyes with no discernible ability to close until somehow her eyelids travel down for a blink. There was plenty to be skeptical about between her eyes and her lips, but in that instant Mark only notices her tribal motif and buffet-style simple elegance, and still near the beginning of his exhale he compliments her necklace as though that was his intention all along. He couldn't tell if her necklace was made with bones or petrified wood or lacquered recycled board game pieces, any of those items could find themselves dangling from her extremities or resting on the ramp leading towards her unbound but nonetheless remarkable breasts. Before long, he is missing his stop so he can listen to the brief narratives associated with her personal possessions, all of which seem to have resulted from road trips and personal discovery. The train is at the first traffic light in Tempe when she mentions her beliefs about eating locally and sustainably grown food, and how she volunteers to help out on farms in Wilcox once per month. Just as he was about to run out of clean ways to express his amusement, Mark seizes in on the opportunity. "Speaking of which," he says, "have you heard of The Rainbow Unicorn Cafe?" She shakes her head without expression but without breaking eye contact. He continues with a bright chipperness that betrays a lack of social awareness, "Yeah, it's this new vegan restaurant that only uses locally grown ingredients! Only things that grow in Arizona. It's the Rainbow Unicorn!" Now she clutches her bag and looks at the floor. "Umm, ok. You don't have to be sarcastic." This is not what Mark expected. His frivolity is deflating, but traces of it can still be heard as he says, "I'm sorry, what do you mean?" She continues, "I get it, you're saying 'If you want to find locally grown produce in Arizona, it is like looking for a rainbow or a unicorn'." "No, that's not it at all!" "Well then what did you mean? That I'm just some shallow hippie dippie flower child who collects funky jewelry and goes to places called 'The Rainbow Unicorn'?" Mark tried to explain, "No, The Rainbow Unicorn is a real place, it's a restaurant downtown", but it was of no use. "Don't insult my intelligence," she said. "Nobody would put all the time and effort into opening a restaurant and then blow it all by calling it 'The Rainbow Unicorn'. I give people more credit than that." The train slowed down as she stood up, clearly to leave, but he was still trying to salvage the situation. "I swear, it's a real place! It exists! I don't have any proof of it, but I know it does!" She disembarks without further comment. At least there was one more stop before the end of the line, otherwise he'd have been forced to get off the train and either hang out at the platform, implicitly admitting that he missed his stop just to talk to her, or he could leave the platform and pretend that was his stop and walk briskly across the street like he was going somewhere and then eventually go back to the station once the girl was out of sight. Mark wonders which of those he would have done as he texts his boss to say he is going to be a little late.
Mark boards the next westbound train feeling basically the exact opposite of the sensation from earlier. It is now mid-morning, most of the passengers are either college students or people with undesirable jobs and maybe a few people who were too hung over to wake up on time for their desirable jobs. Mark doesn't want to talk to anybody, so he sits in a corner in order to make sure that he will have at least one unoccupied side to turn towards and take a nap. Just as he starts to find a comfortable day dream, a girl asks the time. She wasn't addressing anybody in particular, but Mark was closest. He read the exact time from his phone, turning his head towards her without looking, and she was elbow-deep in her purse and didn't even acknowledge his answer for at least twenty seconds. He didn't hear her reply at all, but it did sound inarticulate and friendly so after a few seconds, he focused his vision and turned toward her to reply. They had a friendly and inarticulate conversation that seemed to mention a few cartoon characters, the uselessness of certain kitchen items, and a small town off I-40 in Arkansas that they both had a bad experience in. It was like pillow talk, as though they were distracted by the magnitude of something that just drained their energy. Anything seemed acceptable at this point, so Mark asked if she wanted to meet at the Rainbow Unicorn Cafe sometime. She agreed with easy enthusiasm, like accepting a bowl of popcorn. They exchanged numbers as Mark got off at his stop.
Their interactions were so care-free, Mark wondered if the "1-day" rule for calling someone even applied. He debated the issue until a day had gone by anyway, and he asked if she wanted to meet there on Thursday. She said anytime after 5 was ok. He printed his coupon at work using their expensive color printer, and the Rainbow Unicorn emblem looks very high-concept, so he decides to call ahead to reserve a table. When nobody answers, he imagines they must be very busy indeed... though he is a bit confused when a generic recording reads their phone number because they haven't set up their voice mail yet. He leaves a message anyway, and when he shows up at 5 a table is available for him. After fifteen minutes, he sends her a text message to make sure she wasn't lost, but receives no response. Just to occupy himself, he asked the hostess about his coupon and what the terms and conditions mean. It was about 5:30 when he got an answer, and that was when the girl from the light rail arrived and apologized for her lateness as she went behind the counter. She wasn't apologizing to him, but to the hostess. He could have prevented a very awkward moment if he thought before saying, "Wait, you work here?!" She responded, "Oh yeah, I thought you knew that." Then she paused and looked up from the utensils she was wrapping and said, "OH! You wanted to meet here... Ohhhhhh... um, sorry?" Normally, Mark would leave this alone and find answers within his own thoughts, but something snapped in him. "Wait. What about me asking if you want to 'meet at The Rainbow Unicorn Cafe sometime' indicates that I somehow knew you worked here? That doesn't make any sense." She was caught off guard and paused, then said, "Well I thought maybe you saw me here before or something and just wanted to stop by." Marks eyebrows couldn't possibly arch any more inward, but he still tried and said, "But what in anything I said even remotely implied that I knew where you worked?" She looked up at him once again and said, "I guess I don't know. Would you like me to get you anything?" As Mark left with his $5 smoothie, he started to guess at the nature of their easy exchange on the light rail and wanted nothing to do with it anymore. That confrontation made him realize that with personalities, you make trade-offs no differently than you do with consumer goods, career choices, and everything else in the world. He boarded the light rail and ripped up his coupon in dramatic fashion, which meant that he had to clutch the unmanageable remnants of the two-page coupon until he reached his stop. Sitting perfectly still with his elbows resting on his knees and his head resting on his fists scarcely closed around bits of paper featuring a colorful high-concept emblem, he prayed this wouldn't lead to a conversation.
* In case you are reading this and aren't familiar with the Phoenix "metro" area, this place actually exists. While I may also be lightly satirizing the mores of vegan restaurants in general, I am not making up that name to be funny. If I were to use a parody name, I would certainly try to be more clever. This is an actual vegan restaurant/gallery space that is actually called The Rainbow Unicorn.
That morning on the light rail, Mark didn't even need to try maintaining the enlightened glow he was rehearsing that morning in the bathroom mirror, which is for the better because it actually looked more like a self-righteous smirk than anything else. Most men bemoan the way beautiful women only seem to notice them when they are in committed relationships. While this may be true, there are other instances where men appear downright radiant to the opposite sex, and those times are never mentioned because they aren't as much fun to complain about. One example of this radiance is the phase Mark is in right now. Mark is glowing and perfectly content not because of a woman, but because of himself and his joyful anticipation. He experiences bliss almost equal to a sexual release just from taking a deep breath and fixing his posture. It feels like his spine extends and pushes his head up to the ceiling, and when he opens his eyes he meets the relaxed smile of lips so pouty that such a smile should appear forced, and wide sapphire eyes with no discernible ability to close until somehow her eyelids travel down for a blink. There was plenty to be skeptical about between her eyes and her lips, but in that instant Mark only notices her tribal motif and buffet-style simple elegance, and still near the beginning of his exhale he compliments her necklace as though that was his intention all along. He couldn't tell if her necklace was made with bones or petrified wood or lacquered recycled board game pieces, any of those items could find themselves dangling from her extremities or resting on the ramp leading towards her unbound but nonetheless remarkable breasts. Before long, he is missing his stop so he can listen to the brief narratives associated with her personal possessions, all of which seem to have resulted from road trips and personal discovery. The train is at the first traffic light in Tempe when she mentions her beliefs about eating locally and sustainably grown food, and how she volunteers to help out on farms in Wilcox once per month. Just as he was about to run out of clean ways to express his amusement, Mark seizes in on the opportunity. "Speaking of which," he says, "have you heard of The Rainbow Unicorn Cafe?" She shakes her head without expression but without breaking eye contact. He continues with a bright chipperness that betrays a lack of social awareness, "Yeah, it's this new vegan restaurant that only uses locally grown ingredients! Only things that grow in Arizona. It's the Rainbow Unicorn!" Now she clutches her bag and looks at the floor. "Umm, ok. You don't have to be sarcastic." This is not what Mark expected. His frivolity is deflating, but traces of it can still be heard as he says, "I'm sorry, what do you mean?" She continues, "I get it, you're saying 'If you want to find locally grown produce in Arizona, it is like looking for a rainbow or a unicorn'." "No, that's not it at all!" "Well then what did you mean? That I'm just some shallow hippie dippie flower child who collects funky jewelry and goes to places called 'The Rainbow Unicorn'?" Mark tried to explain, "No, The Rainbow Unicorn is a real place, it's a restaurant downtown", but it was of no use. "Don't insult my intelligence," she said. "Nobody would put all the time and effort into opening a restaurant and then blow it all by calling it 'The Rainbow Unicorn'. I give people more credit than that." The train slowed down as she stood up, clearly to leave, but he was still trying to salvage the situation. "I swear, it's a real place! It exists! I don't have any proof of it, but I know it does!" She disembarks without further comment. At least there was one more stop before the end of the line, otherwise he'd have been forced to get off the train and either hang out at the platform, implicitly admitting that he missed his stop just to talk to her, or he could leave the platform and pretend that was his stop and walk briskly across the street like he was going somewhere and then eventually go back to the station once the girl was out of sight. Mark wonders which of those he would have done as he texts his boss to say he is going to be a little late.
Mark boards the next westbound train feeling basically the exact opposite of the sensation from earlier. It is now mid-morning, most of the passengers are either college students or people with undesirable jobs and maybe a few people who were too hung over to wake up on time for their desirable jobs. Mark doesn't want to talk to anybody, so he sits in a corner in order to make sure that he will have at least one unoccupied side to turn towards and take a nap. Just as he starts to find a comfortable day dream, a girl asks the time. She wasn't addressing anybody in particular, but Mark was closest. He read the exact time from his phone, turning his head towards her without looking, and she was elbow-deep in her purse and didn't even acknowledge his answer for at least twenty seconds. He didn't hear her reply at all, but it did sound inarticulate and friendly so after a few seconds, he focused his vision and turned toward her to reply. They had a friendly and inarticulate conversation that seemed to mention a few cartoon characters, the uselessness of certain kitchen items, and a small town off I-40 in Arkansas that they both had a bad experience in. It was like pillow talk, as though they were distracted by the magnitude of something that just drained their energy. Anything seemed acceptable at this point, so Mark asked if she wanted to meet at the Rainbow Unicorn Cafe sometime. She agreed with easy enthusiasm, like accepting a bowl of popcorn. They exchanged numbers as Mark got off at his stop.
Their interactions were so care-free, Mark wondered if the "1-day" rule for calling someone even applied. He debated the issue until a day had gone by anyway, and he asked if she wanted to meet there on Thursday. She said anytime after 5 was ok. He printed his coupon at work using their expensive color printer, and the Rainbow Unicorn emblem looks very high-concept, so he decides to call ahead to reserve a table. When nobody answers, he imagines they must be very busy indeed... though he is a bit confused when a generic recording reads their phone number because they haven't set up their voice mail yet. He leaves a message anyway, and when he shows up at 5 a table is available for him. After fifteen minutes, he sends her a text message to make sure she wasn't lost, but receives no response. Just to occupy himself, he asked the hostess about his coupon and what the terms and conditions mean. It was about 5:30 when he got an answer, and that was when the girl from the light rail arrived and apologized for her lateness as she went behind the counter. She wasn't apologizing to him, but to the hostess. He could have prevented a very awkward moment if he thought before saying, "Wait, you work here?!" She responded, "Oh yeah, I thought you knew that." Then she paused and looked up from the utensils she was wrapping and said, "OH! You wanted to meet here... Ohhhhhh... um, sorry?" Normally, Mark would leave this alone and find answers within his own thoughts, but something snapped in him. "Wait. What about me asking if you want to 'meet at The Rainbow Unicorn Cafe sometime' indicates that I somehow knew you worked here? That doesn't make any sense." She was caught off guard and paused, then said, "Well I thought maybe you saw me here before or something and just wanted to stop by." Marks eyebrows couldn't possibly arch any more inward, but he still tried and said, "But what in anything I said even remotely implied that I knew where you worked?" She looked up at him once again and said, "I guess I don't know. Would you like me to get you anything?" As Mark left with his $5 smoothie, he started to guess at the nature of their easy exchange on the light rail and wanted nothing to do with it anymore. That confrontation made him realize that with personalities, you make trade-offs no differently than you do with consumer goods, career choices, and everything else in the world. He boarded the light rail and ripped up his coupon in dramatic fashion, which meant that he had to clutch the unmanageable remnants of the two-page coupon until he reached his stop. Sitting perfectly still with his elbows resting on his knees and his head resting on his fists scarcely closed around bits of paper featuring a colorful high-concept emblem, he prayed this wouldn't lead to a conversation.
* In case you are reading this and aren't familiar with the Phoenix "metro" area, this place actually exists. While I may also be lightly satirizing the mores of vegan restaurants in general, I am not making up that name to be funny. If I were to use a parody name, I would certainly try to be more clever. This is an actual vegan restaurant/gallery space that is actually called The Rainbow Unicorn.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Minutes of Weekly Meeting of the Conspire Collective
Minutes of Weekly Meeting of the Conspire Collective
I'd like to say that I didn't use real names out of respect, but sadly, as often as I go there I just don't know anybody's name from the Conspire Collective. Besides, if I used real names it would just become even more of a big inside joke.
At 8:15 PM, Trevor Star called to order the week's meeting of the minds of Conspire Collective and asked where members Val, Ernie, & Carlos "The Yucca" Tanner acquired the Nutella they were eating with plastic spoons.
They replied that they bought it from ...the store.
Trevor Star reminded them that they can't keep stealing Nutella from Jobot, it is wrong and they're eventually going to catch on.
Ernie reminded Trevor Star that "Property is theft", which Trevor Star agreed with but suggested that that the quote should not be used to justify actual theft.
Val requested that Trevor Star define "should" and "actual theft".
Former Chairman Mr. Horse addressed Ernie and said that Karl Marx would disagree with him using Proudhon's quote,. He reminded everyone that Karl Marx took it a step further and said that 'theft' as a forcible violation of property presupposes the existence of property in the first place.
Mr. Horse was advised to get the fuck off Wikipedia and pay attention.
Trevor introduced the first order of business: A letter of complaint was received two days prior. A customer entered the building at 8:30 in the morning and nobody was around to help him. In a letter he left sticking out of the cash register, the customer said that he could have done and taken whatever he pleased, but he looked around felt sorry for "whoever runs this dump" and left $20 for the muffin he took. Trevor addressed Val, who is in charge of the morning shift, asking how she plans to prevent this from happening in the future.
Val's first suggested solution is to set all the clocks at Conspire and in her bedroom ahead by twenty minutes in order to trick herself.
Carlos gave a rebuttal, saying that that was her solution last time, and it doesn't seem to be helping. It seems that she just subtracts "20" from whatever time is showing on her clocks, and sometimes she doesn't even have her clock set ahead twenty minutes at all.
Val's second suggested solution is to try setting her clock forty seven minutes ahead of time, that way it is an awkward number so when she looks at the clock to see if she is running late, she won't feel like doing the difficult calculation to figure out what the real time is.
Carlos said that she would probably just round up and subtract "fifty" from whatever time is showing.
Val admitted that was probably what she would do, so she agreed to change all of the clocks in her room and at Conspire to be random increments of time away from the real time.
Gus commented that time is an arbitrary mental construct, and Ernie added that we should always be striving to transcend its confines.
Trevor Star moved on to the next agenda item: upcoming projects and promotions outside of the gallery. Carlos suggested that they hit this new development near the US Airways Center, with all the lights and chain stores and ugly architecture.
Val proposed that they mock the establishment by pushing Slinkies down the excessive stairways to highlight the fact that nobody is interested in the development and it is a failure and a waste of resources.
Carlos moved to initiate a fund drive for the purchase of Slinkies and to design drop boxes for Slinky donations.
Ernie suggested that they not provide the Slinky corporation with free publicity. He proposed that they use an independently produced children’s toy to make their point.
Mr. Horse started searching for local independently produced toys to push down the steps, when Gus pointed out the conflicting symbolism of pushing independently produced toys down the steps as part of a demonstration.
Val refuted that, suggesting that there is an extra layer of symbolism that nobody was considering; symbolism regarding the destructive relationship between the proliferation of large national retail chains and the smaller local businesses.
Carlos and Trevor Star vetoed the suggestion as it would be wasteful and disrespectful to push local independently produced toys down the steps. Several comparisons to Al Gore using a private jet to travel to climate change summits were made.
Ernie suggested they find a bunch of independently produced toys that they don't like, and push those down the steps.
After many disagreements that were stricken from the records about which toys they don't like, they decided to intentionally build toys that they don't like and push them down the stairs.
Mr. Horse brought to everyone's attention that the flights of stairs in the new downtown shopping center aren't long/high enough to accommodate everybody at once. He suggested that they stagger the toy pushing runs into half-hour increments, two pushers at a time making loops up and down the steps with one box at the top full of toys they made that they don’t like and they aren’t done until they fill the box at the bottom, and on their last turn they carry that box up to the top.
Val reminded Mr. Horse that not everybody dislikes the same toys, and that she didn’t want to push any toys that she actually liked down the corporate stairs.
After arbitrating which toys can be used by whom, Trevor Star begun to develop a schedule. The first shift was to start at 11AM and end at 11:30, but Ernie and Gus reminded him that they no longer acknowledge time.
Trevor Star dismissed everyone for a food break while he figured out a solution.
As the food was passed around, Trevor Star explained the plan of action after clicking his pen and repeating "Not a problem, no big deal" several times. Everybody will take turns pushing the toys that they made that they don't like down the steps in line formation, two at a time, until Ernie and Gus decide to take their shifts, whenever and for however long they turn out to be. At that point they will adjust the rest of the schedule accordingly.
Trevor Star then asked Carlos why he bought Burger King double cheeseburgers.
Carlos explained that he read an article about how Burger King started offering the dollar menu double cheeseburger to compete with McDonalds, and that the offer was poorly planned and executed, so BK actually loses money every time someone buys a dollar menu double cheeseburger. So Carlos has been spending every cent he can find on BK double cheeseburgers, and then smearing them all over the windows of SUVs and any store that leaves its lights on at night when they're closed.
The meeting was adjourned at 11:12 PM, just as the nearest Starbucks closed for the night.
I'd like to say that I didn't use real names out of respect, but sadly, as often as I go there I just don't know anybody's name from the Conspire Collective. Besides, if I used real names it would just become even more of a big inside joke.
At 8:15 PM, Trevor Star called to order the week's meeting of the minds of Conspire Collective and asked where members Val, Ernie, & Carlos "The Yucca" Tanner acquired the Nutella they were eating with plastic spoons.
They replied that they bought it from ...the store.
Trevor Star reminded them that they can't keep stealing Nutella from Jobot, it is wrong and they're eventually going to catch on.
Ernie reminded Trevor Star that "Property is theft", which Trevor Star agreed with but suggested that that the quote should not be used to justify actual theft.
Val requested that Trevor Star define "should" and "actual theft".
Former Chairman Mr. Horse addressed Ernie and said that Karl Marx would disagree with him using Proudhon's quote,. He reminded everyone that Karl Marx took it a step further and said that 'theft' as a forcible violation of property presupposes the existence of property in the first place.
Mr. Horse was advised to get the fuck off Wikipedia and pay attention.
Trevor introduced the first order of business: A letter of complaint was received two days prior. A customer entered the building at 8:30 in the morning and nobody was around to help him. In a letter he left sticking out of the cash register, the customer said that he could have done and taken whatever he pleased, but he looked around felt sorry for "whoever runs this dump" and left $20 for the muffin he took. Trevor addressed Val, who is in charge of the morning shift, asking how she plans to prevent this from happening in the future.
Val's first suggested solution is to set all the clocks at Conspire and in her bedroom ahead by twenty minutes in order to trick herself.
Carlos gave a rebuttal, saying that that was her solution last time, and it doesn't seem to be helping. It seems that she just subtracts "20" from whatever time is showing on her clocks, and sometimes she doesn't even have her clock set ahead twenty minutes at all.
Val's second suggested solution is to try setting her clock forty seven minutes ahead of time, that way it is an awkward number so when she looks at the clock to see if she is running late, she won't feel like doing the difficult calculation to figure out what the real time is.
Carlos said that she would probably just round up and subtract "fifty" from whatever time is showing.
Val admitted that was probably what she would do, so she agreed to change all of the clocks in her room and at Conspire to be random increments of time away from the real time.
Gus commented that time is an arbitrary mental construct, and Ernie added that we should always be striving to transcend its confines.
Trevor Star moved on to the next agenda item: upcoming projects and promotions outside of the gallery. Carlos suggested that they hit this new development near the US Airways Center, with all the lights and chain stores and ugly architecture.
Val proposed that they mock the establishment by pushing Slinkies down the excessive stairways to highlight the fact that nobody is interested in the development and it is a failure and a waste of resources.
Carlos moved to initiate a fund drive for the purchase of Slinkies and to design drop boxes for Slinky donations.
Ernie suggested that they not provide the Slinky corporation with free publicity. He proposed that they use an independently produced children’s toy to make their point.
Mr. Horse started searching for local independently produced toys to push down the steps, when Gus pointed out the conflicting symbolism of pushing independently produced toys down the steps as part of a demonstration.
Val refuted that, suggesting that there is an extra layer of symbolism that nobody was considering; symbolism regarding the destructive relationship between the proliferation of large national retail chains and the smaller local businesses.
Carlos and Trevor Star vetoed the suggestion as it would be wasteful and disrespectful to push local independently produced toys down the steps. Several comparisons to Al Gore using a private jet to travel to climate change summits were made.
Ernie suggested they find a bunch of independently produced toys that they don't like, and push those down the steps.
After many disagreements that were stricken from the records about which toys they don't like, they decided to intentionally build toys that they don't like and push them down the stairs.
Mr. Horse brought to everyone's attention that the flights of stairs in the new downtown shopping center aren't long/high enough to accommodate everybody at once. He suggested that they stagger the toy pushing runs into half-hour increments, two pushers at a time making loops up and down the steps with one box at the top full of toys they made that they don’t like and they aren’t done until they fill the box at the bottom, and on their last turn they carry that box up to the top.
Val reminded Mr. Horse that not everybody dislikes the same toys, and that she didn’t want to push any toys that she actually liked down the corporate stairs.
After arbitrating which toys can be used by whom, Trevor Star begun to develop a schedule. The first shift was to start at 11AM and end at 11:30, but Ernie and Gus reminded him that they no longer acknowledge time.
Trevor Star dismissed everyone for a food break while he figured out a solution.
As the food was passed around, Trevor Star explained the plan of action after clicking his pen and repeating "Not a problem, no big deal" several times. Everybody will take turns pushing the toys that they made that they don't like down the steps in line formation, two at a time, until Ernie and Gus decide to take their shifts, whenever and for however long they turn out to be. At that point they will adjust the rest of the schedule accordingly.
Trevor Star then asked Carlos why he bought Burger King double cheeseburgers.
Carlos explained that he read an article about how Burger King started offering the dollar menu double cheeseburger to compete with McDonalds, and that the offer was poorly planned and executed, so BK actually loses money every time someone buys a dollar menu double cheeseburger. So Carlos has been spending every cent he can find on BK double cheeseburgers, and then smearing them all over the windows of SUVs and any store that leaves its lights on at night when they're closed.
The meeting was adjourned at 11:12 PM, just as the nearest Starbucks closed for the night.
Monday, March 7, 2011
Most Unappealing Conversations in History Part 5: Cluelessness Breeds
Cam went to see a musical theater production with his friend Melissa, who was in the other cast of the production. In case you don't know, theater productions (especially at the college level) are often "double cast" to serve the dual purpose of offering the performance opportunity to more candidates and to give those with more prominent roles time to rest (especially when there are multiple shows on certain days). Cam and Melissa dated for several years and it seemed they are in the preliminary stages of a rekindling. To continue the fire analogy, they have both admitted that they are "cold", but neither will yet acknowledge the nearby fireplace and ample supply of logs. Tonight's venture, however, is not considered a date. After they watched the show, rather than wait with the crowd, Melissa runs into the dressing room to pay her obligatory compliments, which are a form of currency meticulously documented in the minds of every performer. Cam is considering the options of what to do with the rest of the night, browsing his iPhone on a bench behind the somewhat polished crowd of people waiting facing the door nearest to the dressing room for their performer friends and family to emerge. Cam may have a loose affiliation with some people in the crowd, but he keeps a low profile in the force-field of being preoccupied. As the crowd dwindles he peers off the screen periodically to see if Melissa has returned yet. Eventually the last few people wander off and he lets the light dim on his phone. The janitor pushes the door open with great mirth, having completed his duties early. He walks halfway out the doorway and holds it open with the left side of his gut, which protrudes at least 12 inches from probably more gut. He looks at Cam and goes back inside and vanishes down a flight of steps. Cam thinks to himself, "Melissa is so loquacious. It is wonderful when I benefit from that, but I can't stand it when she loses track of time..." The janitor pops back out the door and Cam unlocks his phone and starts once again "occupying" himself as he approaches, clearly about to start a conversation. Here is how that exchange went:
Janitor: Y'know there's nobody down there in either dressing room.
Cam: Oh I'm just waiting for a friend, she should be here any minute.
Janitor: I just looked down there, I didn't see anybody. Is she in the cast?
Cam: Well she's in the other cast, we were just watching tonight. See she went down there to congratulate her cast mates...
Janitor: It's ok, I understand. So she didn't get cast. So what! It's no big deal.
Cam: No see, they had a split cast. She performs on Friday, Saturday and Sunday matinee.
Janitor: Are you sure you have the right show?
Cam: It's ok, I know she's coming and I'll just wait.
Janitor: OK.
Janitor: Does she know you're here?
Cam: Of course she does, she was my date. Err...
Janitor: Heheh, you don't look too sure of that. It seems like a simple thing to ask yourself, really. Was she or wasn't she?
Cam: I guess not technically. It's complicated.
Cam: We used to date, but now we're just friends who hang out a lot.
Cam: It's complicated!
Janitor: I get it, it must be complicated. You know a few months ago there was some kid who got the cops called on him. He overheard a certain young lady he was interested in tell some friends that she was going to a piano concert, so he just waited outside of the building for her. Turns out he had been stalking her for months, and once she saw him waiting outside she finally had enough and called campus security.
Janitor: You don't seem like that guy though.
Cam: Then why say anything?
Janitor: Just in case you are.
Janitor: So if you don't mind me asking what did you have planned for after the show?
Cam: What do you mean "if you don't mind me asking"? You just basically accused me of being a stalker!
Janitor: A lot of the students go to Schmidt's.
Cam: Yeah, we're not part of that crowd... We're thinking of somewhere more quiet.
Janitor: Man, she's really making you wait. I think it's time for plan B.
Janitor: If you know what I mean.
Cam: Nah, she'll be here, maybe she's in the restrooms.
Janitor: If you insist. I don't think you should put up with this disrespect.
It is at this point Melissa returns and they walk away.
Melissa: God, sorry that took so long. Bridget and I agreed that the conductor can't hold a tempo to save his life, so yeah we were talking about that for a while. Glad you made a friend, is he gonna come with us?
Cam: Y'know, I wouldn't mind that. After being surrounded by all the pretentious theater people, it is nice to have a simple conversation with someone without secret agendas.
And etc. Cam's humble act of philanthropy, augmented by alcohol, set the relationship ablaze once again that night.
Janitor: Y'know there's nobody down there in either dressing room.
Cam: Oh I'm just waiting for a friend, she should be here any minute.
Janitor: I just looked down there, I didn't see anybody. Is she in the cast?
Cam: Well she's in the other cast, we were just watching tonight. See she went down there to congratulate her cast mates...
Janitor: It's ok, I understand. So she didn't get cast. So what! It's no big deal.
Cam: No see, they had a split cast. She performs on Friday, Saturday and Sunday matinee.
Janitor: Are you sure you have the right show?
Cam: It's ok, I know she's coming and I'll just wait.
Janitor: OK.
Janitor: Does she know you're here?
Cam: Of course she does, she was my date. Err...
Janitor: Heheh, you don't look too sure of that. It seems like a simple thing to ask yourself, really. Was she or wasn't she?
Cam: I guess not technically. It's complicated.
Cam: We used to date, but now we're just friends who hang out a lot.
Cam: It's complicated!
Janitor: I get it, it must be complicated. You know a few months ago there was some kid who got the cops called on him. He overheard a certain young lady he was interested in tell some friends that she was going to a piano concert, so he just waited outside of the building for her. Turns out he had been stalking her for months, and once she saw him waiting outside she finally had enough and called campus security.
Janitor: You don't seem like that guy though.
Cam: Then why say anything?
Janitor: Just in case you are.
Janitor: So if you don't mind me asking what did you have planned for after the show?
Cam: What do you mean "if you don't mind me asking"? You just basically accused me of being a stalker!
Janitor: A lot of the students go to Schmidt's.
Cam: Yeah, we're not part of that crowd... We're thinking of somewhere more quiet.
Janitor: Man, she's really making you wait. I think it's time for plan B.
Janitor: If you know what I mean.
Cam: Nah, she'll be here, maybe she's in the restrooms.
Janitor: If you insist. I don't think you should put up with this disrespect.
It is at this point Melissa returns and they walk away.
Melissa: God, sorry that took so long. Bridget and I agreed that the conductor can't hold a tempo to save his life, so yeah we were talking about that for a while. Glad you made a friend, is he gonna come with us?
Cam: Y'know, I wouldn't mind that. After being surrounded by all the pretentious theater people, it is nice to have a simple conversation with someone without secret agendas.
And etc. Cam's humble act of philanthropy, augmented by alcohol, set the relationship ablaze once again that night.
Television
You are my television and you tell me I need to change. I'm watching the Discovery Channel, but when I wake up I'll only remember infomercials. I am blind to my self at times, when you are my only vantage point into reality, myself, and all interactions of the two. I seek your approval too much. Television tells me that television is bad for me. Another infomercial I suspect. We spend some time apart, but any attempt at romance is just another channel to me, and soon I am back into my old habits. Before I know it, I learn that I am no longer a man but also a television, and our relationship is that of a television watching a television. We try to entertain one another and it keeps us busy, but there is little joy. Then one day you burn out, but since you're still plugged in I spend several weeks listening to your residual buzzing. A force beyond my control carries you away and leaves me with the inevitable. I am now a television in search of somebody to watch me.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Monopoly: Political Commentary Edition
Congratulations on your purchase of Monopoly: Political Commentary Edition. Please select your characters from the following: CEO, Liberal Party Member, Tea Bagger, Green Party Member. Player one, you have selected Tea Bagger. You own utilities and one of the four railroads. You are almost out of money, but the CEO was kind enough to buy two of your railroad properties at face value in exchange for unlimited usage and executive power over those and all of your other assets. Players two and three, you have selected: Liberal Party Member. You will each own one or two of every property color, but neither one of you will own all three of any colour because you can't come to an agreement about what you would do afterwards. Player four, you have selected: CEO. You own Boardwalk and Park Place with hotels as well as funds generated by all of Tea Bagger's property. You are also in the seat nearest to the bank. You try to convince the liberal party players to remove regulations that prevent you from being able to forcibly purchase their assets, but promise not to use it. You argue on the grounds that, y'know, in a truly free market that sort of thing would be allowed. Player 5, you have selected Green Party Member. You will make a delicious burrito out of this board game. Enjoy it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
