i_kender

Being a man impulse shopping is not really something I do (and, indeed, one of my own personal hells is being dragged around shopping by girls... a childhood trauma I can thank my mum and sister for) but sometimes you just *have* to spend money you don’t have on things you don’t need, and nothing else will do but instant gratification. So today I headed into town and went straight for the Forbidden Planet. The plan was to buy two Vertigo titles I’ve just gotten into (through the, ahem, ‘wonders of the internet’) 100 Bullets and Y the Last Man. Bullets is this great crime/noir/conspiracy story, and Y is... what would we call Y? I suppose a post-apocalyptic tale, with a slight twist, namely a mystery plague has wiped out all the men on Earth bar one, Yorick ( the ‘Y’ of the title).

(And I can hear a few women in the background crying out ‘Thank fuck for that! What a wonderful idea!’ Please keep it down, this site is currently masquerading as Switzerland in the ongoing gender wars. There will be plenty of chocolate for everyone.)

Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately, for my bank balance) I could only find two issues of 100 Bullets and one of Y, and the Planet apparently has no back issue section anymore. (Hey, where did it go? Especially considering the new store is so much bigger...) What I really wanted was the last year’s run, 100 Bullets 47-57 and Y the Last Man 21-29, but oh well, I guess I’ll have to dig around a bit more until I find them.

Instant gratification thwarted, and feeling slightly queer by all this excitement of leaving the house (a perilous venture, kids, I recommend undertaking only with a full backpack of survival equipment and an emergency medical team on standby)... feeling queer, as I said, I strolled to the Costa in Old Compton Street and settled down with cigarettes and a Mocha and enjoyed reading my new purchases. And gradually became aware of the physical pain in my shoulders, and my back, and my left temple which are a) stress related and b) a direct consequence of sitting around at home too much to the point where my muscles have atrophied. How I laughed! I also amused myself by trying not to flinch at people. I hate hate hate the Underground! Argh, close physical proximity with people who smell and look depressed and stare at you!! And the streets are often nearly as bad. Oh, Metropolis... how your elbow pokes me in the eye!

All of which suggests all this job-hunting stress has left me a mite anxious. Hmmm... oh well, not much I can do about that which I’m not already doing! Tonight I will crack open a bottle of White Zinfandel (but it’s not white! It’s pink! Ah ha!) and watch Closer. That’ll cheer me up... or make me cry. Either will be fine.