Crazy Porn Music

I struggle with self-promotion.

Naturally, it’s deeply rooted in my early years…buried uner the waxy, yellow build-up that covers my so-called psyche like everything else that haunts me. It’s a convenient excuse childhood. I use it shamelessly and often.

Not making a scene or calling attention to ourselves in an obnoxious way was a part of our family credo.  Not a bad thing given some of the absurd outbursts I see parents allow from their kids these days.  We were a private sort.  But then again, everybody was the private sort. We didn’t have a choice, really.  We had phones that hung on the wall with curly cords that were perpetually twisted and had only one function.  A glorified revsion of the string and tin can.

Now? Everybody is watching.  Everybody is being studied.  Everybody knows everything about us from what we buy to what our houses look like from space.  They don’t always get it right, though.  The other day Target sent me a coupon for tampons.  Guess they didn’t get the memo that I no longer have a uterus.

The upside to life in this waterless fishbowl is that we can observed as much as we’re being observed.  Well, maybe not quite as much since no one I  know has one of those Google Earth cars with satellite dishes on top but at least we have tools.  Even someone like me can exploit them.  By proxy, in my case by seeking out tech-savvy brainiacs who know how to navigate in The New World. I’m still getting my brain around the fact that the earth is not flat.  But…..I am  working at it. Whatever It Takes is the new town slogan here in Julesville.  I am learning to embrace the previously un-embraceable.  I. Can. Do. It.  I just have to take a Valium, puke and get on with it.

I need to be more like this guy here.  I saw him in San Francisco recently. You can’t see him too well because I was hiding in a trinket shop on Powell and didn’t want him to know I was taking his picture. Should I be ashamed? I don’t think so.  He wanted to be noticed.  He was wearing a red suit for God’s sake.  He was hawking his wares of giant, gaudy cubic zirconia jewelery out of his Kia Pride, doors thrown open, loud porn-esque music pouring from tinny speakers that you could hear for blocks. I was drawn to it.  I had no choice. I gave in. I had to get a closer look. Which I did from the relative safety of the trinket store for what felt like forever.  He was an odd mix of James Brown and Ron Popeil.  I wanted to talk to this guy.  Ask him where he got the groovy, silk headband that held his ‘do’ in place.  And that suit!  Gotta love a red suit!  I wanted to know how to shed the inhibitions that stifle me when it comes to promoting myself…but I didn’t. I would have bought something out of misguided courtesy and obligation because diamonds are my birthstone (and by default, CZ). But I look ridiculous in enormous jewelery. Instead, I slinked away unnoticed.

Yeah. I’m gonna be more like him…less the porn music.

Or maybe not.  I kinda dug it.

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Kitty
April 10, 2012 6:28 am

” He was an odd mix of James Brown and Ron Popeil”

He sounds like a visual mess.

Now I’m totally diggin’ that zebra rug in the store entry. How do they keep that clean?