I like train stations and supermarkets: this is a good thing.
Because for me, they make my day. They liven me up. A lot of people become depressed by these two locations. A lot of people see them as a chore, and do not enjoy the minutes they spend there each day, trying to avoid them. These places make my day. At the train station I like to sit and write or read. I like to observe the humans. I love watching private school darlings in their fuzzy sweaters. Blue was the colour de jour, today. Empirical blue. Or maybe Prussian blue. And they wear tall socks. And shoes clean enough to be kissed. And they entangle cold hands.

And at the supermarket I love to look at all those damn cans. They amuse me. Food in cans are nifty, they remind me of old school 1950’s women with Bettie Page hairdos in frilly aprons, with enormous, forced smiles and about a thousand words of praise, for this most excellent devilled ham. I bought a cantaloupe and a punnet of strawberries.. and syoup. Yes, syoup. I always buy NW magazine because my housemate and I are devout celebrity gossip junkies when we get together. Oh, the way we titter and scorn.. hehe, I love celebrity gossip. Jennifer Lopez looked really lovely and luminous today. Milla Jovovich is looking fabulous lately, she has been ever since this whole Resident Evil film gig. Geri Halliwell is hideous. Absolutely repugnant. She looked better when she was chubbier. Her face is disgusting. I defy anybody to tell me otherwise (invitation for nasty /msgs).

eroticbetty likes supermarkets too. A snippet from a letter (right before I got her a job at Bi-Lo):

”Hmm, perhaps I’ll become a checkout girl. I do hope so. How poetic, how trash-now America. I love it. I wish there was a bad 1950’s style uniform though, and – it should be more neglected looking, less customers etc. Then we would be surly and dull to the customers. Kind of “GO” meets “Whats Eating Gilbert Grape?”.

Price check, price check at Register 4. Price check. GUYS: I need a price check. I am inspired. I think of “Push” by Garbage:

Opens in carpark. Black mob van. Nuns pull on balaclavas. Walking down horrid fluoro lit aisles. Shirley. A-line black dress. Boyfriend: made out of TV static. No food on the shelves. Only the occasional huge bottle, possibly foetal content, uncooked chickens, etc etc.

There’s two girls, siamese twins joined by the hair. Beastly thin girls with high cheekbones in underwear, dancing awkwardly. Its so fluoro lit, so hyper.

Then the nuns find our poor little static man and Shirley’s band members are there. They’re these strange men, so surreal and godly. And they’re like part of some excellent conspiracy and Shirley sides with them, stands by and lets the static man get shot by the nuns wielding price guns. he exPLoDeS. huge bright white light."

etc etc etc (irrelevant to this node)
"THaT is why I like supermarkets. Oh and, I get a tiny insight into someone’s life by looking at their groceries. How excellent."
I have thought supermarkets were romantic for quite some time. I suppose this began a few years ago when I worked as a check out chick after school (god, I loved my job), there was this extraordinary storm. And we had a blackout. And what else could we do but walk around in the store while it was dim? It was so dreamy. I have fantasies of breaking into the supermarket with a few friends and staying there overnight.. playing in trolleys, kissing in shelves, eating kitkats and having the type of conversation you only have, in a dark supermarket, overnight, alone, unallowed, and filled with treasure.

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