Whilst walking through Macy's I was mesmerized by the arrangement of colored plates all separated by color and size displayed in descending order. Those poor plates.
Those poor, doomed plates.
They've reached the pinnacle of their existence right here, in Macy's displayed perfectly. Once purchased, it's only a matter of time before the plates get thrown, washed, dulled, microwaved, chipped, and shattered. The ding of the cash register upon purchase seals their fate. They remind me of a box of colored pencils or crayons, all arranged perfectly by color, all the same size, pointed tops. They are the sacrificial lambs, blended and pushed down, sharpened and dulled.
Used, expended, but for a higher purpose. Their sacrifice could yield a masterpiece. Or a clichéd illustration of some utopia of green grass, blue water, a house with windows, and the sun.
This utopia where, for whatever reason the sun, a giant ball of burning gas, is represented here as a benevolent creature with eyes, a nose, and smile.
Can you tell I've been reading palahniuk?
Where was my life before Keurig? It's interesting to me that I began drinking coffee and beer both as social constructions (Not solely for these reasons. They're both unfortunately delicious. I slowly progressed to the rank of both coffee snob and beer snob. No longer content with light beer and regular coffees.). They are a means to enhance conversation, storytelling. One can pause for dramatic effect, take a sip, open on a new subject or offer a new perspective on the current subject. But it's the gesture, the sip, that sells it. Makes it seem organic, spontaneous, as thoughts tend to occur. It could be the storyteller is using a prop, the thought has been generated, the plot development loaded, all that remains is the delivery. Say your line perfectly, and the story will stick.
Some stories, you tell them and you use them up. Other stories, you tell them and they use you up.
More to follow.
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