backpack dreams

I used to go the swap meet a lot, almost every week at the height of it. I'd usually bike to the thrift store off of Lincoln to start. Inbetween the Burger King and the Korean market where I heard some kid got shot. Then I'd go to the Goodwill more close to Hawaiian Gardens, like, halfway to Long Beach Towne Center if you were to start from the cemetery (probably not even that far). Then finally, the other Goodwill in that strip mall with the Marshalls and Jenny Craig.
If it was Saturday (at first I wasn't sure which day on the weekend, but now I am sure because I would go to church almost all day on Sundays), I would also go to the swap meet at Cypress College.

Thrift stores, in my memory, were a relatively relaxing experience. I could set my own pace.
Just for reference, some useless but notable things I have bought over time:
-Mid-90s hardshell Samsonite briefcase
-Unopened (!!!!) copy of Sims 3 for my sister's birthday
-Little kids keyboard that I tried to open up to "circuitbend" and modify and I was only partly successful
-weird magician's hat and cape that I ended up using as for my "talent" in Mr. Patriot pageant
-lots of dingy shit I cannot even remember anymore

Anyway, swap meets always took more out of me, though. With the crowds and noises and people. I remember a man who would be there almost every week, demonstrating how his brand of car wax works better than all the others. He had a microphone across his face, like Britney Spears. Always seeming to wax the same exact spot on the hood that I saw him wax last time, I could never understand him and he sorta made me wish I took Spanish instead of French. But the car was a bright red like Maraschino cherries. Did you know that Red Dye #4 (which is used on Maraschino cherries) is only allowed to be used on Maraschino cherries because it is considered more of a garnish than a foodstuff  (Wikipedia.org)? Anyway, that guy, and his Spanish sales pitch I couldn't understand, he is a fixture in my memory. I guess.
And sometimes I'd get there too late, or just barely catch the last bit of it. I have memories of standing there, cursing myself, watching parts of the swap meet slowly melt away back into normal parking lot. Usually a bit of litter left behind.

--
This is where I cut out a long (fictional) chunk that I wrote about that carwax salesman guy. It was very melodramatic and shitty fiction, dunno exactly why I wrote it. I think this is what happens when I finally read a book. I also think mostly I wrote it because I just wanted it to end with him getting frustrated, slamming his fist against his hood, then slipping and hitting his face on his car because his car is so waxy and shiny. It must have started with that. Then I ended it by saying "JKJK that didn't happen but its like fiction and like magic realism" and it felt weird and shitty and not worth posting. Damn it, after writing this summary of it though, it does sound kind of funny. Oh well, that's pretty much it, anyway. It also just, I dunno, felt more circlejerky and self-indulgent than usual. Also just weird to place such a shitty dumb fake story smack dab in the middle of some dank real life anecdotes, man. Also, now would be a good time to say that this whole, current, middle chunk (and the middle chunk before it) were catalyzed by a carefully calibrated mixture between my weed pen and some Jim Beam. Once during my first year of college, I legit sprayed out Jim Beam and lit a fireball in front of my face and my new friends were very impressed and proud of me. I remember being impressed, too, as I hadn't really ever done anything like that before. I don't speak to most of those guys anymore.
--

But the whole point of bringing up swap meets/thrift stores was for this next part here, which did happen.

One time, at the swap meet, I found this Mormon Bible, but there was this See's Certificate tucked right in there, for like a free pound. Which is pretty legit. I ended up giving the card as part of a Secret Santa gift to Mrs. Byron, I think. Right? No. It wasn't her. Jesus, it was Mrs. Taylor. I feel bad for not remembering.

But anyway, I don't think it was till I got home and reopened the thing that I saw the card that was also tucked in.
Inside there was a quote, presumably a Bible verse, but in my memory it seemed slightly too ridiculous, something like:
"May the Lord of the Flames be with you!" -Kev
Maybe not quite like that, but something like that. Also, the person's name wasn't Kev, I wish I could remember who and to the card and Mormon Bible were. But that was it, no actual message beyond the quote. I think it was like:
"Bev--
'May the Lord of the Flames Be With YOU!'
-Kev"
That part made me happy (and still does), even though I wasn't religious at the time and I'm not now. And even though I can't even remember what it said.

But the front of the card was the best part. It was a watercolor portrait of an alien. With big black poppyseed shaped eyes, and yellow egg-shaped head. Cute tiny red mouth, like if someone had taken a slice of watermelon and eaten the rind instead. Nice plain blue sky behind him/her, maybe a cloud, and also some nice, lime green grass. I remember the paper was weird, it was oddly bumpy and hard. It felt easy to rip, which made it all the more valuable to me (I guess). I'm pretty sure I scanned and posted it on here at some point. I think I did, I should have looked for that before writing this.

Oh well, this whole post was instigated by me not being able to find that particular card. I'm starting to feel sick of myself now. But yeah, I started writing this because I feel bad that I lost that card. I also feel kind of hungry now, after describing that card. I am so impatient, it has only been a few minutes, I am reading this, and I am already starting to feel the cringe that I get from reading posts that are a few years old. A couple months at least.

Ugh, I copied and was gonna save that shit that I wrote about that carwax guy but I accidentally Ctrl+C'd over it. Fucking shit.
This is what I accidentally Ctrl+C'd over about 400 or 500 words of my (admittedly shitty) fiction (ready?):
"Maraschino cherries" Fuckin' really?
Oh well, there was one bit in there that I kind of liked about shaking hands that will be forever lost to "Maraschino cherries" and also some line about Legos and some other nice flowerly line about my (fictional) nosiness being validated by the carwax guy's face being smashed, all lost to "Maraschino cherries"

I guess I should read more, so I can continue to write more (shitty) things that I can delete. Today, I asked my coworker if he has read Slaughterhouse-Five, he said he hadn't heard of it. Then he walked around the corner and didn't reply to whatever question I garbled out next, then one of my managers popped out from behind the counter, screaming at the top of his lungs, and scared the living shit out of me. I almost dropped my broom and cursed loud enough for the whole store to hear.
It's a little game we play. I guess.

And the carwax salesman was real and he really had a Britney Spears microphone and I really did once spit a fireball made of Jim Beam and I really do not speak to most of those people anymore.

Maraschino cherriesMaraschino cherriesMaraschino cherriesMaraschino cherriesMaraschino cherriesMaraschino cherriesMaraschino cherriesMaraschino cherriesMaraschino cherriesMaraschino cherriesMaraschino cherriesMaraschino cherriesMaraschino cherriesMaraschino cherriesMaraschino cherriesMaraschino cherriesMaraschino cherriesMaraschino cherriesMaraschino cherriesMaraschino cherriesMaraschino cherriesMaraschino cherriesMaraschino cherriesMaraschino cherriesMaraschino cherriesMaraschino cherriesMaraschino cherriesMaraschino cherriesMaraschino cherriesMaraschino cherriesMaraschino cherriesMaraschino cherriesMaraschino cherriesMaraschino cherriesMaraschino cherriesMaraschino cherriesMaraschino cherriesMaraschino cherriesMaraschino cherriesMaraschino cherriesMaraschino cherriesMaraschino cherriesMaraschino cherriesMaraschino cherries


So I found the pictures, and I remembered a lot of the details wrong. The grass is not lime green, and is probably bushes. The alien's eyes are not as big as I remember and it has nostrils I forgot about. Its mouth is definitely not the shape of a watermelon slice and is actually two distinct lips. The cloud I remembered is actually probably a UFO. And there was a sun, I forgot to mention.
Also totally fucked up the quote, though I guess I was kind of close. But I totally forgot the message part, which is arguably more inexplicable and funnier than the quote. I also guess I didn't like it that much since I couldn't even remember most of its details.
Here is the card:



Epilogue:
About 3 hours later, almost 4 AM, I log back in to edit this post. What the hell is wrong with me? Truthfully, it does feel kind of worth it though. I found some solid typos/weird wordings. Added a colon. I am still hopeful to find the actual card somewhere in this damn house, but I should also add that I forgot that I scanned that fucking thing before I even started writing everything here, so now I feel like I can put that off a bit. ha ha? Its neurosis stacked on neurosis everyone.

Huh. I like to mope. I'm a moper. Man, I should have followed my advice from that first post before I finished that coffee. As far as hypocrisy goes, this is pretty, uh, well documented. Oh well. I should try writing a soap opera. I'm so melodramatic and have such a, seemingly, puberty driven angst. I will think about doing that, I will think of an idea and talk about it and think about doing that. Okay, time to choose a podcast I can partly listen to (and never finish) before I go to sleep. I don't have work tomorrow (today) so I am going to sleep in. I've been having okay, but weird, dreams lately. But still mostly okay, they are weird but not necessarily unsettling. The worst part is that recently, in my dreams, I always seem to have to drive around a lot, at least from what I remember. A lot of my dreams seem to be figuring out which highways to take and merging lanes. Pretty weird.

stuck in my chair
now I'm all sad
I wish I could be everywhere with everyone

The above is what I was thinking much of the time during my day.
Biking around and exploring places was definitely fun, but it was a little bitter at the same time. I guess I just miss certain people. And I realize that I've been spending a lot of my time alone over the past half year or so, I'm not really sure."

Finished "Slaughterhouse-Five" late last night and had a weird dream about everyone and everything and my veins were bulgy.

But I feel okay this morning/afternoon. And if I'm gonna complain about my feelings on here maybe I should keep it more contained, instead of being corny and so melodramatic and existential all the time. Like just talk about the moment as much as possible, like, today, I feel okay. My mood feels... upward? I dunno.

Then again, I haven't finished my coffee yet.

the places i used to be
how they are without me