Have You Forgotten?

Last week I told somebody in a nightclub that they could 'stop by my house anytime and borrow (my copy of) The Elephant Man'. So far they've declined this lucrative offer, which has so far been a relief for me, and unbeknown to them, a relief for them also, because I don't own a copy of The Elephant Man.I also said that Ian Rankin was 'Britains greatest crime writer' which a completely bizarre thing to say, what with me only ever reading one British crime book and very very few other crime books whatsoever, but at least it was as far as my opinion on such a small knowledge, it was the truth. I bought a crime book yesterday, actually, by James Ellroy. I also bought The Adventures of Tom Sawyer by Mark Twain for £2 because I intend to spend my day off tomorrow listening to Gillian Welch and Uncle Tupelo and read tales of the Ol' American West, keeping the curtains closed to pretend it's not the New Walian South outside, and it's pretty grey with it, too.
Today I went to Blockbuster to return 'The Departed' and a couple of others, and it took more almost 10 minutes between getting to the till and actually leaving the shop. In this time, I enjoyed a few minutes of confusion whilst I was denied my three choices of films because I already had three on rentail, only for me to have to watch them go through the 'quick drop bin' to find the three I'd just returned. Then I had to listen to a conversation between two members of staff who were discussing in distinct business terms a situation involving broken IT equipment at the Glocester Road store, and whether they had to phone head offce or the DC to find a particular member of staff, and that a RM from Choices wanted to know the stats on inventory. I imagine to the stereotypically wisecracking cynics who work in video rental stores, the average drooling apes who drag their knuckles around their stores and then rent Steven Seagal films have no idea what they were talking about. Unlucky for them, I did. So that was fascinating, and I had to listen to it, because they man serving me on the till was new, and had a pony tail, and asked too many questions. The next time you find yourselves resorting to going into a Blockbuster video store for entertainment, the tills ask a LOT of question, but luckily most staff skip them all, but if you have the misfortune to be served by 'the new guy', who has a pony tail, and a remarkable lack of understanding of computers despite the fact the IT equipment in Blockbuster is so primeval it pre-dates Windows, then get ready to wait. Eventually, the two guys 'talking business' stepped away from putting copies of The Simpsons movie in plastic sleeves and came to his (and his pony tail)'s rescue. I might have pulled a few hairs out in frustration, were it not for a brilliant person who came to the till next to me, who was so utterly cretinous he didn't realise that Blockbuster was a rental store, and tried to buy three films (including Ultraviolet) for £7 and was disappointed when he coudn't.
Then I walked past 'Bedz 4 U' and felt a massive twinge of sympathy for the poor man running the place. He was sat in the middle of the glass fronted warehouse with his head in his hands. As I walked past, he looked up, saw me walking past and then sat back on the edge of the bed and resumed the position of voluntary dispair with his head in his hands. I felt sorry two of the best things in the whole world, ever, take place in bed; sleeping, and reading in bed, and he was surrounded everywhere by beds and being totally unable to do so. Like the Ancient Mariner of beds. It wasn't long before I realised I was feeling sympathy towards somebody else and went home to watch 'Taxidermia', the film we bought Martin as a present for basically setting up the multimedia department and being generally awesome. It's been crap so far. The start of December has always been a bit eerie. This time last year I spent almost 24 hours a day holding onto my phone because it wasn't long after I was getting to know Gemma, and I was completely infatuated and hung on every word she said, and didn't want to let go of my phone incase it meant not being able to reply straight away. I don't think I'll be in the position again any time soon.We don't talk now. A few years back, in 2002, I spent too much emotional energy trying to stop a girl from liking me when I had no intention of reciprocating, and naturally she turned against me. Luckily, we don't talk now either. In 2000, during the second week of December I spent all the money I'd saved to buy Christmas presents in order to travel to Chelmsford in Essex, under the belief that my girlfriend at the time was going to try and kill herself that evening. She didn't. I spent the night on the streets of the city and slept in the doorway of a Samaritans. We don't talk either. In fact, we stopped talking no more than three weeks after that incident, after she cheated on me, ditched me, and then got pregnant on New Years Eve. It really is the most wonderful time of the year.