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8:13 a.m. - Thursday, Aug. 19, 2004
Broken in Spirit But Not in Toe
Toe not broken. The podiatrist said the radiologist is a big drama queen. Well, she didn't say that, but it would have been amusing if she had, wouldn't it? Instead of being just a tiring waste of time.
And then I went to the Wal-Mart Super Center. They have cheap-but-not-too-cheesy, nicely scented liquid-soap-type stuff that I like. They have cat litter, cheap. They have bird suet, cheap.
Note to self: it's not worth it.
Every time I go into the Wal-Mart Super Center, I emerge praying that the nuclear holocaust will come swiftly. Deh vieni, non tardar, o gioia bella — come swiftly, do not tarry, come and wash clean the face of earth, come and stop this madness, before all the green fields are covered over in Wal-Mart Super Centers and the earth itself suffocates beneath the asphalt.
You can't drive 10 miles in any direction from my house without running into a Wal-Mart Super Center.
I suppose a generation of people is coming up for whom this will not be a problem, a generation that doesn't know what a field of wildflowers looks like, that doesn't know what silence is and so can't feel its absence, that has never seen the stars at night; a generation whose heart opens up with joy at the sight of a Wal-Mart Super Center the way mine does at the sight of so many things that are disappearing beneath the Wal-Mart Super Centers.
Then I'll die, and so the last unhappy person will vanish from the earth, and all will be fluorescent lighting, blacktop, cheap prices and joy.
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On the other hand, at least in the Wal-Mart Super Center the mosquitoes don't eat you alive.
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