Fuck I should go Frank’s it’s not like P ever bought anything from me but he is closer to L and might be a good connection for him. Not that anything Matters. I wish I could be a better Warhol with a factory of creatives and lively mess around me, at all times, but fuck that never works out either. Maybe I should play the lottery and get a big fucking pile that i could play impresario  with? Naw that’s not happening either. Do I just want to envied or a big part of some big dance? But my ideas have no traction. Shit folk just want to go home and tune out anyway; Tired from work, get fed (too much generally),  lick our wounds and be entertained.

A wondering around the Mall was a splash of cold water on my ego. Maybe that is what it is designed for anyway make us look for happiness/satisfaction/pleasure in having to acquire more? SISYPHUS in jeans. I dont know. Or was my ennui  from the encounter with the masses of other bored and yearning, souls? I only got energy there, in that temple of getting more shit, when I put my ear buds in and had control of my sound scape. it becomes a big active musical when you do that. Walk fast like a pinball through the masses. Becomes a video game;  shopping on music, like driving with music,  thanks to this “Great Age of Guns”, there is now, genuine peril, on both the road and at retail, not an illusion but a chance to gamble life.

Post script: the specific auditory bliss I heard Jack White’s ‘Blunderbuss’

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