Just Loved American Beauty All Over Again

Lester Burnham: [narrating] I had always heard your entire life flashes in front of your eyes the second before you die. First of all, that one second isn't a second at all, it stretches on forever, like an ocean of time... For me, it was lying on my back at Boy Scout camp, watching falling stars... And yellow leaves, from the maple trees, that lined our street... Or my grandmother's hands, and the way her skin seemed like paper... And the first time I saw my cousin Tony's brand new Firebird... And Janie... And Janie... And... Carolyn. I guess I could be pretty pissed off about what happened to me... but it's hard to stay mad, when there's so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing it all at once, and it's too much, my heart fills up like a balloon that's about to burst... And then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain and I can't feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life... You have no idea what I'm talking about, I'm sure. But don't worry... you will someday.

Humiliation

Hate it when the police have you spread against the car & they pat you down & find one of those gay paper cocktail umbrellas on your person.

Following Ruben Jane On Your Friends House

A story of mine, Following Ruben Jane, that has never really been published before. Friends might have read it, but now strangers are reading it, thanks to Your Friends House. It's nice to have stories out there that I had just given up on ever being read.

Photo credit: Luciana.

Sales Reps... My Favourite People

I'm pretty good at just hanging up on telephone salespeople these days. Discount coupon schemers, energy consultants, they are all pretty annoying. I'm rarely rude to them because they are just a person doing something they are paid to do, but I am short and to the point with them. I do get a bit rude if they call back, or if they call during service. It's a cafe - here's a clue, don't call at lunch time.

Got a guy the other day who came into the cafe during a busy lunch. I thought he was a customer because he was waiting in line with the other customers. When I asked him what I could do for him, he presented his business card and told me that he represented a food supply company and he would like to supply our cafe.

I was pretty stunned. I mean, other sales reps, if they happen to come when it's busy, they wait at the side. You generally see them and when there's a gap you make contact.

But this guy waited in line, customers in front and behind. He did his introduction and brief sales pitch. I thanked him and said that we are very happy with our current suppliers. He didn't budge. He looked a bit affronted that I wasn't going to drop everything, sack our current suppliers and welcome him on board.

I repeated that we are very happy with our current suppliers but I'd keep his card if anything changed. He stayed there and asked who our current suppliers were, like he was perfectly entitled to engage in a bit of sales faff right there and then. I had to point out that he was standing in front of customers, that I wanted to serve my customers. He looked momentarily pissed off, stood to the side like he was going to wait and have another go before deciding that instead, he would leave.

Most stunning bit of amateurish sales repping I think I have ever seen. Quite brilliant in its awfulness.

On Being An Introvert

This is an interesting read from Sarah Wilson. I sometimes totally don't get why I am the way I am. Why sometimes I can't bear to be around fun people, why at other times I love being around them. (I'm content with my dislike of obnoxious, attention-seeking types). Why I so desperately need to be alone sometimes, as much as the times I need the right company. Or why I've always been so utterly shit at small talk.

The Dying

When he looked back, he could see a point where he lost interest in those who were perceived as being close to him, their love a clumsy misunderstanding. He withdrew and withdrew, and eventually they were distant. Even more distant than the ones who had not been close.

He retreated further and they grew more distant until finally he was alone, just the memory of them to keep him company.

And when he looked back, he could see a point where he lost interest even in the memory of them, and from this vantage point he wondered who they were.

And some great long time after this, he could not see them at all, could not recollect them, could not smile or shed tears at the memory of them. Had any of it been real?

He wondered if he had been part of them. One of them. But now, in not knowing who or what they were, he wondered about his own nature.

And when he looked back, he could see a point when he lost interest in himself and trying to understand any of it. He could feel himself fading into an unforgiving, infinite distance, and eventually... he simply ceased to be.

Love & Farts

I think the word should be "possibly", not "probably". Some of my most memorable farts have been forced ones, ones where I have sweated with the thought that this could well result in pants full of poo but taken that risk anyway. It's all about living outside your comfort zone, because that's where the magic happens.

Live it up, I say, and force that fart. You never know - it could be the best fart you have all year.