i was having a conversation with a friend at work the other day, and it was interesting enough to record for posterity. Or, at least, for Internet posterity, which means as long as the electricity lasts. One fine day we’ll be banging rocks together to make fire, eating beans from a can with a switchblade that we plundered from the rubble of the local supermarket, and my seemingly indellible online journal will be no more, but the poetry of Yeats, being available in hard copy, will persist. i ask you, where’s the justice in that?
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i say stupid things all the time. It’s like a talent of mine. And just like an Olympic athlete, i’ve had my share of absolute shining moments, my gold medal moments, where i couldn’t have said a stupider thing at a more inconvenient moment, and i come off as dumb as a stump.
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i pass by this mysterious store on my way to work:

And you thought the bank had lousy hours.

Note that the sign says it’s open Wednesday and Saturday, not Wednesday to Saturday. It’s open two days a week. i am the not understand.

i remember passing by once in the middle of the day with my wife - possibly on a Wednesday or a Saturday - before the sign was taped to the door. i was absolutely floored, because the door was open, and i saw a little old lady with a head scarf going inside. But then she quickly closed the door and that’s the last i saw of the place. But i managed to get a good, long look inside.

i can only describe it as a curio shop. The windows are packed from sill to ceiling with junk. Across one side of the store hang countless strands of rosary beads and leather belts. Another window is crowded with empty water bottles.

And every once in a while, i catch a glimpse of something downright bizarre. For example, in the middle of all those rosaries and belts, did you catch it? No, not the miniature football helmet keychain. This:

It takes the keen eye of an animation fan to spot the star of Disney Afternoon’s mid-90s line-up, Marsupilami.

Houba, indeed.

Peeking through the windows, i can also make out some dusty old books, a few board games, and just a generally odd assortment of bits and bites to baffle the brain and stimulate the imagination. It’s like a shop in Diagon Alley where Harry Potter would go to buy his magic wand, except that it’s quite clearly a drug front. So i guess it’s like a shop in Diagon Alley where Harry Potter would go to buy his magic mushrooms.

He’s guaranteed to fly either way.