Sunday Sutra

I wake up.

I hurt. I am still drunk from last night. I am miserable. I feel rejected. It is morning. I got four hours of sleep. I shouldn’t have driven home. I have my holiday party today. I need to buy clothes. I need new clothes.

I drag myself up. I am congested. I take cold medicine. I apply nasal spray. I splash water on my face. I am wearing the same clothes I was wearing last night. I know the dry cleaners is closed. I need to buy new clothes. I put on my coat. I remember it snowed. I walk out the door. I walk to my car. I drive away. I drive to buy new clothes.

I stop at Wawa for coffee and cigarettes. My head is muddled. I pay the cashier. I leave Wawa. I get back into my car. I put in my Tool CD. Undertow. I am still miserable. Miserable and muddled.

I drive down Roosevelt Boulevard. I go to Neshaminy Mall. I will go to Sears. I will go to Sears and buy new clothes. I rage with Tool. I am a ball of Tool rage. I am muddled. I park my car. I walk into Sears. I will be a consumer. I will shop.

I need new shoes. I go to the shoe aisle first. I see shoes that look comfortable. I see shoes that are considered fashionable. I find a pair of loafers. They are black. They are padded. I find size 10. I slip off my right shoe. My socks are wet from the snow. I slip on the black padded loafer. It envelopes my right foot. It is a perfect fit. It is so comfortable. My hurt slips away. A wave of comfort flows through my system. I am shopping. I have found the perfect shoes. I feel better. I have new-found confidence. I will look good at my company’s holiday party. I feel safe. I need to find pants.

Rows of pants. Dockers. John Henry. Relaxed fit. Pleats. Cuffs. I look for my size. I remember how I was sick this week and didn’t eat for three days. I feel thinner. I may have gone down a size. The thought of this fills me with delight. I try not to depend on this. I pull pants of my regular size. One black pair. One tan pair. I make my way to the fitting room.

The doors are broken. I need to find a sturdy door. I check three rooms. The third room has a working door. I bring in my pants. I am still awkwardly carrying the box with my comfortable new black padded loafers. I try on the black pants first. I am beside myself with joy. These pants are too big. I try on the tan pants. The tan pants are too big. I put my jeans back on. I rush out of the fitting room. I pick out the same pants. The same pants in a smaller size. I go back to the fitting room. I try them on. Oh my god. These pants even seem a bit loose, but not too much. I will not press my good luck. I have gone down another size.

I picture fields of my favorite foods. I picture myself walking by all of it. I can smell all of the food smells. I don’t touch any of it. I never want to eat again. I just want to smoke cigarettes and drink coffee. I exit the fitting room. I am carrying the box of my perfect black padded comfortable loafers. I am carrying my thinner pants.

I need to find shirts. There are too many shirts. I can’t think straight enough to decide yet. I am awkwardly carrying my new clothes. I need a shopping cart.

I leave my new clothes with a cashier. I go outside. I smoke a cigarette. I see two shopping carts. One cart is wet inside with snow. I take the dry one next to it. I wheel it inside.

This is the best shopping cart I have ever wheeled. The wheels roll so smoothly. A rush of euphoria wraps me like a blanket. I get my new clothes from the cashier. I put them in my perfect cart. I will soon be the proud new owner of perfect new shoes. I will soon be the proud new owner of perfect pleated slim pants. I roll my perfect cart through the rest of Sears. I don’t venture to the shirts yet. I just want to roll my perfect cart. It is the best cart I have ever used. It makes me feel warm. I roll it through the store.

I see other people shopping. I see couples. I see children. I see old people. I see teenagers. I see consumers. I am a consumer. We are consumers. We are all together. We are finding perfect clothes. We are happy about incredible holiday sales. We read sale tags with joy. We will buy perfect clothes.

I feel ready. I go to the shirts. There are so many shirts. There are so many patterns. It is hard to decide which shirt is perfect. I become distracted by beautiful silk ties.

These ties are all perfect. I want every tie in this store. I picture an insane artist sowing the patterns by hand and pricking his fingers. I picture trickles of his blood commingling with the ink. I see a beautiful red tie. An insane blood-inked tie. I hold the tie. It feels incredible. It feels soft and smooth. I put the tie into my perfect cart.

I leave my perfect cart for a moment to look through shirts. I am not sure that I should leave the cart. I am worried someone will take my perfect cart. I do not let the cart leave my field of vision.

I see a blue striped shirt. This is my shirt. I pick out a smaller size than I usually wear. I am thinner. I will look thinner in this shirt. All my old clothes are baggy. I need new thinner clothes. Sears has all of my new thinner clothes.

I spy another perfect shirt. Everything is falling into place. It is a white shirt with white striped patterns. It is artwork. It is beautiful. I take my two perfect shirts into the fitting room. I am relieved that my new favorite fitting room with the working door is unoccupied. I try on the shirts. They are a perfect fit. I am becoming complete. I am smiling.

I put my perfect shirts into my perfect cart. They rest on my thinning pants and the box containing my new comfortable black padded loafers. I roll my perfect cart back to the ties. It rolls smoothly. I want to take this cart with me when I leave. It is the best cart I have ever wheeled.

I find another tie to match my blue striped shirt. The blood red tie will go perfectly with my beautiful white shirt. I have succeeded. I have made my decisions. I have found the perfect purchases. I am satisfied. I am smiling. I am rolling my perfect cart filled with my perfect new clothes to the checkout counter.

I pay for my perfect new clothes. I know half of the clothes are on sale. There are incredible sales. I don’t care about the prices though. Money is no longer an issue. These are perfect clothes.

I pay for my perfect new clothes. I swipe my credit card. I sign my electronic signature. I tell the cashier to have a good one. I exit Sears.

I leave the cart behind. I miss my perfect cart. I find my car. I take one last look at my perfect cart. I wonder if the next consumer will appreciate it. I put my perfect new clothes into my car. I get in my car.

I drive home smiling. I listen to Tool. I drive down the Boulevard. I rush home. I drive through my development. I park my car. I walk into my apartment with my perfect new clothes. I have had a good shopping day. I feel better. I have another cup of coffee. I write this down. Sunday Sutra.

23 skidooed by on December 4th, 2005

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