So I’m working at The Computer Store, that’s it’s name, just “The Computer Store” With underline and everything, relic of the old days of Macintosh arrogance.
Things behind the service counter:
- “Kind of like spitting” concert sticker.
- Laser-printed instructions card for MAME.
- Catalyst zine, thumbtacked to corkboard
- Many post-it notes.
- Cuesta-Rey Centenario Coleccion sticker, from cigar box, stuck on the metal frame of security curtain…
- Purple plastic keychain guitar that plays one of 3 riffs with a cheesy chip-generated electronic flourish.
- Powerpuff-girl figurine (Bubbles) on top of my Lime iMac.
- Pixilated, grayscale image of bones, bones, bones of small rodents…
- “Virus protection for your hard drive.” Postcard of a condom rolled over an old beige Mac mouse. “Available at Planned Parenthood.”
- Pencil and ink drawings by my coworker, Mia… Image of an eye, the pupil is an eight-ball, the fibers of the iris spell out HURT ME bordered by little figures… xeroxed and cut out ten times, overlaid on the wall.
- “I miss my lung, Bob.”
- No drawings by me, seeing as I got BUSTED and CALLED INTO THE STORE GENERAL MANGER’S OFFICE for putting up a post-it of a gun-wielding girl saying “BUY.” I mean, it’s not like EVERY drawing of a gun-wielding girl with flowing hair striking an action-pose is AUTOMATICALLY a caricature of the store coordinator who I ACTUALLY LIKE and who besides has BRAIDED hair and wears GLASSES… It’s enough to drive a man to ALL CAPS.
“You can hang up drawings back here,” Mia is assuring me.
arg arg will finish post later