I think, that whatever else I have to say about that former cashier, I think she wants to be my love interest. When I write now that I just finished rewatching episode 1 of the Alec Guinness version of "Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy," and that I imagined turning her on to it as I watched, I don't think me saying that here would frighten her were she to read this.
I might very well have her undivided attention these days. She might really like the idea of someone such as me taking such an interest in her. I've come full circle since the days of "Donna," when my attempt to make someone such as Donna over into my love interest seemed an occasion for alarm in my community of peers back then.
I still, at times, feel as if I'm being subjected to something unnecessary and cruel. But, right now I feel pretty chill. Life is good. I'm glad I acquired the ability, somewhere along the way, to sit down on my fears and anxieties about such situations. I don't think that airing my insecurities these last several posts has been totally without merit, because I do feel as if I'm being subjected to a situation that would give rise to such insecurities becoming wholly manifest.
I feel like the Nastassja Kinski character in the movie "Paris, Texas." When we first meet her in that movie, we see her at her job as a girl working a peep show booth. She sits in a small, enclosed room in front of a two way mirror. Harry Dean Stanton, as the male customer, can sit on the other side of the mirror in the adjacent room and see her, but she can't see him. When she starts to talk about herself and her job, she comes across as totally sympathetic and sensitive. I still don't know this person on the other side of that mirror, yet here I sit.
I can't help but feel the hand of Vernon Hoe in this affair. If my mythology around him rings true, this would be just the situation where he'd want to take me for a spin and see what I can do, for old time's sake if nothing else. His hand in this whole matter would explain the extra kick I feel to the proceedings.
In 1992, when "Jenna" was my love interest, I got a job in a factory in February of that year. Almost to the day when I first started working in my department, my coworkers seemed to want to fuck with me. As the third shift, my shift, ended and the first shift personnel came in and started to work, there was this one hispanic guy on first shift who would sing Bill Wither's "Ain't No Sunshine." He would do this on several occasions before he got fired for fucking up on the production of our product.
Another hispanic guy, on my shift, would sing a song in Spanish that went, "Sin amor, ni apasion nada." I remember him working across from me and explaining that the song was about how a love is no longer there for the singer of that song. Anyhoo, as the situation with Jenna progressed, or degenerated if one prefers, these formerly antagonistic coworkers started to turn. Looking back, I often wonder if Vernon Hoe and the League reached out to them at some point to help me along in completing my stated mission regarding Jenna.
I might very well have her undivided attention these days. She might really like the idea of someone such as me taking such an interest in her. I've come full circle since the days of "Donna," when my attempt to make someone such as Donna over into my love interest seemed an occasion for alarm in my community of peers back then.
I still, at times, feel as if I'm being subjected to something unnecessary and cruel. But, right now I feel pretty chill. Life is good. I'm glad I acquired the ability, somewhere along the way, to sit down on my fears and anxieties about such situations. I don't think that airing my insecurities these last several posts has been totally without merit, because I do feel as if I'm being subjected to a situation that would give rise to such insecurities becoming wholly manifest.
I feel like the Nastassja Kinski character in the movie "Paris, Texas." When we first meet her in that movie, we see her at her job as a girl working a peep show booth. She sits in a small, enclosed room in front of a two way mirror. Harry Dean Stanton, as the male customer, can sit on the other side of the mirror in the adjacent room and see her, but she can't see him. When she starts to talk about herself and her job, she comes across as totally sympathetic and sensitive. I still don't know this person on the other side of that mirror, yet here I sit.
I can't help but feel the hand of Vernon Hoe in this affair. If my mythology around him rings true, this would be just the situation where he'd want to take me for a spin and see what I can do, for old time's sake if nothing else. His hand in this whole matter would explain the extra kick I feel to the proceedings.
In 1992, when "Jenna" was my love interest, I got a job in a factory in February of that year. Almost to the day when I first started working in my department, my coworkers seemed to want to fuck with me. As the third shift, my shift, ended and the first shift personnel came in and started to work, there was this one hispanic guy on first shift who would sing Bill Wither's "Ain't No Sunshine." He would do this on several occasions before he got fired for fucking up on the production of our product.
Another hispanic guy, on my shift, would sing a song in Spanish that went, "Sin amor, ni apasion nada." I remember him working across from me and explaining that the song was about how a love is no longer there for the singer of that song. Anyhoo, as the situation with Jenna progressed, or degenerated if one prefers, these formerly antagonistic coworkers started to turn. Looking back, I often wonder if Vernon Hoe and the League reached out to them at some point to help me along in completing my stated mission regarding Jenna.
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