EAT IT ZOK

21:44

You are an angel:

On the bus home after a particularily human interAction-Packed day at work, I decided that I would purchase Front242's album, "05:22:09:12 OFF". Plotting ahead, I decided that I would stay on the bus until it was near my bank, and then move decisively between bank and CD store fetching money and CD in order.

As the bus approached Broadway Ave ("The Ave", again), I considered that it might not turn onto the Ave as I had hoped it would. I began to get the headrush that accompanies the realization that I was being taken in the Wrong Direction, and that I was powerless to stop moving until the next bus stop. Why was I suddenly getting this feeling? We hadn't gone wrong yet. Well, I had less than consciously noticed that we weren't trying to stay far enough back at the corner stop to make it to the turn lane in any sort of sane driving manner.

Fortunately, the next bus stop wasn't far from the Ave., and I didn't feel too dumb making up the distance. On the way to the bank, a thin girl wearing a bright red blouse sporting a completely shaved head (save a strange tail in the front) dashed in from a side street to insert herself into the foot traffic stream directly ahead of me. I began thinking that she looked familiar. Like Michelle S. from the other side of the continent. Naaah. She stayed in front of me until the bus stop in front of the CD store, then sat down on a wall as I walked in.

My purchase complete, I reentered the Big Room and noted that the girl in the red blouse had started walking in front of me in the opposite direction, back towards where my house is. I decided that I needed a huge thing of Coke, so I adjusted my course to take me into a Safeway. Girl stopped to talk to a rough-looking guy wearing dumpster-punk fashions. In Safeway, I realized that my hair was so f00fy because I hadn't recently conditioned it, so I went into the hair care products aisle. I confronted a wall of brightly colored plastic bottles, all highly specialized to only apply to one specific type of hair, forsaking all others. None of them said "I don't care, just get it out of my face", so I went for "Finesse - Adjusting Conditioner for dry or coarse hair". The bottle is blue, I was seduced by its masterful brain chemistry manipulating label. I reengaged my feet drive, turned the corner, and looked up to see Girl in Red Shirt. Looking me directly in the eyes, grinning like she had just stumped me with some incredible twist of reason. I couldn't help but smile at this atypical guerilla-style interaction. It was enough to keep me oddly happy for the rest of the day. I'm still happy. Maybe I shouldn't have just walked quickly out the door and back home.