An unproductive day. Went to the library
work but accomplished little, other than making myself literally nauseous
with scrolling microfilm
. I even got cockblock
ed by the library computer’s porn filter
while trying to get to a site which had New Jersey cemetery
inscriptions. Believe me, this irate library patron will be firing off letters within the week.
And then I went to three different stores trying to buy The Magnificent Seven
. I finally rented it at Blockbuster
but asked them to void the rental when I changed my mind at the last second. $4.05 to rent a movie I’m going to buy anyway? That’s going to be anywhere between 25 to 50 percent of the purchase price. Forget it.
I believe in stores, really. I believe in instant gratification
and browsing and the sheer thrill of seeing mountains of entertainment offerings at my fingertips. I have obscure
tastes, yes, but this isn’t some obscure French art film
, or even a famous French art film. It’s a fucking Western
. It’s got Charles Bronson
in it. Nothing elitist
here, and I shouldn’t fucking have to fucking special order
the fucking Magnificent fucking Seven.
I love the convenience
of online and the easy comparison shopping
and the one click ordering and the fact that the mailman
brings it to me a few days later. But I don’t want this to be a nation of people in their little hovels ordering their specialized goods. I believe in the commons
, where people come out to meet and mingle and share a culture
. I want to believe, but I can’t believe in a world where The Fucking Magnificent Fucking Seven is some obscure art flick. I give up