Anti abandons the internet.

it's finally over, thank fucking god.

Thursday, July 14, 2005

 
when i pull up to the 7-11 after midnight, and the place is packed with people who are feverishly scrounging up last minute neccecities.... so that the sand man can make his welcomed visit, and everyone can be as prepared as they need to be.

some people have a pint of ice cream, other folks have a tall boy can of piss-beer. EVERYone's wearing pajamas, and buying cigarettes. although there was ONE dude who was dressed like he just popped out of a night club.

i sat in my car, wearing sweatpants with no underwear, a tee shirt i picked out of the dirty hamper. i have the sweats pulled over my feet instead of shoes. and man, im content to just sit there, and watch the 7-11 slowly dissapate.

there's no sense rushing in there, only so i can wait in line, flinching my eyes under the flourecent lights, and my hands sticky with slushy. besides, i have the NEWS talk radio on, and i find it comforting. i don't listen to the details, but the bass-y voices of the newscasters are relaxing, and could lull me to sleep if i wasnt careful.

because im parked directly in front of the glass doors, everyone is forced to stare me in the face as they exit the store. they stare, and i stare back in hopes that i will get to ask life's eternal question, "whatchu want, ese?"

everyone once in a while someone will com eup to me and ask me some boolshit. like, "hey man, can you hook me up some chronic?" or "are you 21? will you buy us beers?" i say no to everyone, because i like to stay outta ppl's bizznass.

i love going to the seven.






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Tony Pierce