lunch

sitting behind a big glass window, the front of the deli is all glass . . I was taking lunch and my sandwich was a wrap, and not a great one . . but who needs a wrap, not me, I dont know why I even ordered it . . I looked at the menu long and hard but I dont think I was really reading, more like staring with jellied eyes . . the words were said without notice, for I was still thinking about watermelon sugar . . well whats one sandwich out of well let us not dwell on how many sandwiches ol dino has or has not eaten in his time . . the point is, I was talking about the window after which, we will discuss the telelvision . . yes, yes the window . .

as I am sitting here eating this uninspired instantiation of a sandwich a lady who was walking down the street has come up to the front of the shop to the window the big window for somereason just where I happen to have sat down shes right upon me but not looking at me or regarding me in the slightest, though one can clearly see another eating his lunch and pondering the bard brautigan . . quite frankly, she is minding her own business with no regard for my busisness . . what is she looking at ? turn to look and what is there, nothing a broken clock, a sunken octogenarian staring off into the void two filipino women and an ample black woman and her likewise ample black man and empty seats and tables and a weird landscape on the wall done in deep brown and assorted neons ?? maybe shes looking at the condiment area ? shes not looking at me, but she casts a shadow over my table . . not a literal shadow, for the weather is grey scaled and upon us in the guise of dark grey skies and fine grains of rain . . the kind that of precipitation that gives you a little chill but does not really require an umbrella . .

well she stood there for a while this lady . . so I might as well describe her I was too angry to then, she was so very much in my space . . about fifty sorta round with round cheeks and round glasses she reminded me of an eggplant . . a brown raincoat and khaki pants and zebra print rainboots, a satchel slung over one shoulder, short but not cropped pale brown hair a bit like old rust . . she stared through that big window into the deli for minutes (three ? a little less ? or more ?) with this dumb look like if she were doing an impression it would be, ’Someone waiting for train they know will never come’ . . then she went on, as if shed never stopped walking down the street and I looked around to see if anyone else had seen what had been going on but it was still just the old timer (eyes closed) and the two filipino women (showing each other their nails and talking like the rabbits do) and the ample couple who were earnestly enjoying their sandwiches . . and of course, empty tables and chairs . . I wonder if she was a ghost ?

right, the television . . why is it the case that there has to be something on television all day every day ? is it so there are things to have on televisions that no one is watching ? cant help but watching ? are watching but not watching ?

am getting away from it, I can see that . .

what I mean to say is this,

there is always something on t v . . it did not used to be this way . . there was a time before all-news networks or even networks that, while are not exclusively news, reek of news-format . . they are filling up space that they create by filling up space . . filling it up with nothing . . yes ! of course ! they fill it up with nothing because it is nothing to begin with ! it is not even trash . .

You can burn trash.

Originally published at oldnewsnewbrewsnewsbruise.tumblr.com.