August 21, 2013
Iona came to see me at work on Monday and she brought two friends with her. I was glad to see her and gave her a kiss when they approached me at the counter. One of her friends looked like a young Sophia Loren, the body and everything, the kind of girl that makes you hard when she walks by just because your dick can sense her before you even see what she looks like. She was wearing a tee-shirt and jeans but she made those clothes seem inappropriate. She had some nice tits and a nice ass and she was just nice. Whenever none of the girls were looking at me, I was sneaking a look at her tits. Not because I wanted to, my eyes are just made that way. Anyway, I behaved and gave Iona my undivided attention. Until they all looked away and I was staring at her friend’s tits. But other than that I was completely loyal. I didn’t even flirt with that girl. Later Sharly told me that sometimes girls will do that when they have a new boyfriend. They’ll take their most attractive friend to test the guy’s ability to be trustworthy. I really like Iona so a can resist a nice pair of tits. Like I said, loyal, which is ironic to say since I’m involved with Paula.
So Iona was like, “Where’s your Clint Eastwood?”
I said, “Gary Oldman’s sleeping in it.”
That two line conversation made my fucking day. Internal amusement is often more gratifying than shared amusement.
Anyway, the other friend of Iona’s said to me at one point, “So what’s a guy like you doing working in a bookstore?”
I didn’t get the question. I mean, why shouldn’t I be? I said, “I don’t understand.”
“You know, working with all these books.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I like books. I read a lot.” Or at least I used to read more, which is why I stuck it on my list of priorities to read more. I started reading Steppenwolf but I haven’t even finished the preface yet, just because I haven’t invested enough time. I’ve had a distracted brain since I stopped drinking and drugging. I will try to read and my mind drifts and I find myself looking off in the distance somewhere, without realizing I’ve stopped reading. Or I’ll get to the bottom of the page and have to read it over again, more than once sometimes, because I must have spaced out while I was reading. Or, the most frustrating thing is when I can’t keep my eyes open, I get too drowsy when I start to read. Some of these relate to not drinking anymore, but it mostly pertains to my brain injury from the Gangsta.
But I wasn’t about to say any of this to that bitch who was insinuating I was a fucking moron. I didn’t know if I said or did anything to make her think I was dumb, but I’m mostly quiet and vague around people so I couldn’t have said too much. She kept tossing in comments that suggested my stupidness. The tits girl didn’t laugh at all, and Iona kind of laughed to ease the situation and would say, “awww he’s very intelligent.” And I remembered that I don’t think she knew my name. Hopefully she took a glance at my name tag, which has my full name, “Wall Grimm” not just “Grimm.”
But in the midst of this discussion about my intelligence or lack thereof, this guy comes over and asks if there’s a philosophy section. I told him I’d show him and as I moved from behind the counter, I asked him if there was anything he was looking for in particular. He said Nietzsche. I asked if he was just starting to get into philosophy. He said yes. I said, “Well it seems that a lot of people, when they first approach the philosophers they go straight for Nietzsche. He’s got the Superman, the cynicism, the subtle optimism disguised in there, as if the hope was all that was left, in itself making it kind of pessimistic. Plato’s Symposium is kind of interesting, the discussions of love and soul mates, and how the gods tore us apart to punish us so we spend our lives searching for our other half, and this is kind of where hermaphrodites come from. My favorite’s Empedocles, first off because he’s Sicilian like me, but also because he’s very positive and talks about nature and love and the oneness of everything, kind of a BC hippy. So when I’m feeling more punk I go straight for Nietzsche though. I’m kind of an existentialist, so my preferences are effected by my mood. There’s existentialism in all of those guys, so it’s kind of a pointlessly specific sub-genre. Anyway, those are basic descriptions, kind of common knowledge I think, but I could go into more detail, even about some philosophers who are less known in the mainstream, if you’re open to suggestions.”
Then as I walked into the direction of the philosophers with this guy, I turned and gave that girl the finger.
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