bath towel. I can now carry like, six squares with me at all times and be able to shower/swim no matter what situation I’m in. And, I, LOVE, swimMING! Not sure you can even begin to appreciate that kind of freedom unless you invest in a package of these bad boys!”
Then I changed “bad boys” to “babies.”
Then back to “bad boys.”
I gave the paper towels four stars out of five.
After reviewing the paper towels, I found a product no one had reviewed.
Earplugs.
I wrote this review: “Wow, just…disappointing.”
Then realized I was writing the review about myself.
Then realized every negative thing I’d ever said was about me too.
Ouch ouch ouch.
Stinging!
I did another review, for a twenty pound barbell.
The review was: “So, ok. I’m a fitness FREAK! But this barbell just isn’t doing it for me. Nope, no way, Jose. I think it’s going to take a much MUCH bigger barbell to successfully smash my mother’s head in. Bottom line: Great for fitness though. Definitely feel stronger.”
In the review section for a television stand, I wrote a review titled: “This is actually a review of my girlfriend’s roommate.”
And the review was: “Well I went into our relationship (me and the roommate) wanting to be nice. Not friends, just nice. You can’t expect to be friends with someone. That doesn’t happen. That’s what my girlfriend doesn’t understand. It can’t just be like, ‘Now we’re friends.’ It just happens. IF IT HAPPENS. So I wanted to be nice. I wasn’t going to do anything more or less than I would for anyone else. Anyway, I’m not one for the bullshit :) so I’ll just say it: Roommate = TOTAL MEANY!!! I tried to be nice. But she just ignored me. Wouldn’t respond to anything. I’d say hi and she wouldn’t say hi back. And I never fucking say hi, so, shit. Need I say more? TOTAL MEANY!!! One out of five stars (and I’m being nice here, folks).”
Then I deleted “folks.”
Then I typed it again and left it.
Seemed like I was yelling “fuck you” in my head the whole time—maybe my whole life.
Sitting in the Uptown Public Library.
The person next to me at the table had a nectarine out.
I had the urge to say, “Want someone to be my FRIEND here!”—slamming my balled fist down on the nectarine as I yelled “FRIEND.”
*
On the way home, I stopped at a corner store and bought an 18 pack of soap.
In line at the store I looked at the 18 pack and felt relief.
That’s 18 bars—I thought.
That will last a long time.
Shit, each bar will last a long time.
Think about 18 of them.
When it’s all over, I’ll be a different person.
A completely different person—unrecognizable as any past version.
It was calming to me to know that many things would happen before I needed to buy more soap.
Who knows if I even will have to buy more soap.
Maybe something will happen.
Maybe someone will give me soap.
Maybe I’ll die.
Maybe soap won’t even be used anymore.
Maybe a meteor will destroy earth.
Maybe I won’t even care about soap anymore.
I looked at the 18 pack.
Relief.
I walked home with it in my arms, confident and happy.
Relieved.
At home I stacked the bars in the bathroom cabinet.
It is time to begin using the 18 pack—I thought.
Now is the time to begin.
I smiled.
I was already different.
Sent my brother a phone message: “Hey there’s 18 bars of soap here now if you want some.”
Eventually he sent back: “Who gives a shit.”
I sent back: “Just leave me a few bars you know.”
*
That night when I left for my girlfriend’s, the Wilson Street Red Line stop was barricaded on all sides.
I walked up to the barricade.
Police cars.
Ambulances.
Firetrucks.
ATF units.
Riot shields.
Weapons.
People standing around watching.
Uncle Sam came up to me, in the middle of saying something about the hotdog he was eating,
Uncle Sam was a homeless guy in the area.
I called him Uncle Sam because he wore this American flag top hat.
He also
Then I changed “bad boys” to “babies.”
Then back to “bad boys.”
I gave the paper towels four stars out of five.
After reviewing the paper towels, I found a product no one had reviewed.
Earplugs.
I wrote this review: “Wow, just…disappointing.”
Then realized I was writing the review about myself.
Then realized every negative thing I’d ever said was about me too.
Ouch ouch ouch.
Stinging!
I did another review, for a twenty pound barbell.
The review was: “So, ok. I’m a fitness FREAK! But this barbell just isn’t doing it for me. Nope, no way, Jose. I think it’s going to take a much MUCH bigger barbell to successfully smash my mother’s head in. Bottom line: Great for fitness though. Definitely feel stronger.”
In the review section for a television stand, I wrote a review titled: “This is actually a review of my girlfriend’s roommate.”
And the review was: “Well I went into our relationship (me and the roommate) wanting to be nice. Not friends, just nice. You can’t expect to be friends with someone. That doesn’t happen. That’s what my girlfriend doesn’t understand. It can’t just be like, ‘Now we’re friends.’ It just happens. IF IT HAPPENS. So I wanted to be nice. I wasn’t going to do anything more or less than I would for anyone else. Anyway, I’m not one for the bullshit :) so I’ll just say it: Roommate = TOTAL MEANY!!! I tried to be nice. But she just ignored me. Wouldn’t respond to anything. I’d say hi and she wouldn’t say hi back. And I never fucking say hi, so, shit. Need I say more? TOTAL MEANY!!! One out of five stars (and I’m being nice here, folks).”
Then I deleted “folks.”
Then I typed it again and left it.
Seemed like I was yelling “fuck you” in my head the whole time—maybe my whole life.
Sitting in the Uptown Public Library.
The person next to me at the table had a nectarine out.
I had the urge to say, “Want someone to be my FRIEND here!”—slamming my balled fist down on the nectarine as I yelled “FRIEND.”
*
On the way home, I stopped at a corner store and bought an 18 pack of soap.
In line at the store I looked at the 18 pack and felt relief.
That’s 18 bars—I thought.
That will last a long time.
Shit, each bar will last a long time.
Think about 18 of them.
When it’s all over, I’ll be a different person.
A completely different person—unrecognizable as any past version.
It was calming to me to know that many things would happen before I needed to buy more soap.
Who knows if I even will have to buy more soap.
Maybe something will happen.
Maybe someone will give me soap.
Maybe I’ll die.
Maybe soap won’t even be used anymore.
Maybe a meteor will destroy earth.
Maybe I won’t even care about soap anymore.
I looked at the 18 pack.
Relief.
I walked home with it in my arms, confident and happy.
Relieved.
At home I stacked the bars in the bathroom cabinet.
It is time to begin using the 18 pack—I thought.
Now is the time to begin.
I smiled.
I was already different.
Sent my brother a phone message: “Hey there’s 18 bars of soap here now if you want some.”
Eventually he sent back: “Who gives a shit.”
I sent back: “Just leave me a few bars you know.”
*
That night when I left for my girlfriend’s, the Wilson Street Red Line stop was barricaded on all sides.
I walked up to the barricade.
Police cars.
Ambulances.
Firetrucks.
ATF units.
Riot shields.
Weapons.
People standing around watching.
Uncle Sam came up to me, in the middle of saying something about the hotdog he was eating,
Uncle Sam was a homeless guy in the area.
I called him Uncle Sam because he wore this American flag top hat.
He also
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