HomelessInLaJolla's Journal: 140618 (La Jolla, CA, 92037, war v8.011)

War in La Jolla, eighth year, eleventh entry

The pretend street friends have become extraordinarily easy to identify and work over. In normal life there are many interests and hobbies, paths of conversation and paths of "did that one get ya?" innuendos over the course of daily chatter. Once the idolatries have been stripped away then the remaining important items of conversation are sugar and herbage, mainly. Fifo2ed includes a discussion about "air moved in prayer" and the legitimacy of other topics of conversation. The pretend street friends have left to them only the hooks of sugar and herbage, and my diet is mainly my own and carefully protected. A long-running play on herbage has been to gain my association as a possible convenience store (supplier of herbage), then wait for a pre-pay, and then balk, for weeks on end. The most reliable method for me to glean the excuses out of the entire town is to pre-pay a $10 bag of herb. Has nearly never failed. They pre-spend the $10 and, as usual, I wait for weeks to see so much as a flake while the convenience store individual continues to make up whatever irrational excuses. No big deal to me. Perfect opportunity to exercise my preferences.

For example, when dealing with my convenience store, I do not prefer to announce to the entire world in large conversations that I am buying a $10 sack of herbage. I am not hiding my affinity for marijuana, but it is not a flaming component of my topical personality. I walk into convenience store, I buy a pack of cigarettes, a bottle of soda, and a $10 sack of herb. I do not stand and go flaming conversationalist about my bottle of Mt. Dew. I do not turn into hours long flaming conversationalist about my pack of cigarettes. Why would I go flaming conversation about my $10 sack of herbage? I don't. They do. Every time. It's pathetic. In the past I have attempted to assist them, by beginning with the usual topics of converatiion, weather, lunch, how's things?, etc., with all of the appropriate opportunity for the convenience store clerk to indicate whether supply is up or down, in or out, open or closed.

The pretend friends, however, make enormous grandeuristic displays about such minor technicalities as the size of the stock on the shelf, or the delivery schedule of the truck at the back door. I am the _CUSTOMER_. I do not give a sh_t about the delivery schedule of the truck at the back door. No customer ever does. Sure, maybe if the clerk and I spend time over weeks talking about weather and how's things? then perhaps some day it may be a passing news item that the delivery schedule of the truck at the back door is on or off. The pretend street friends, however, having only herbage remaining to them as their hook, have absolutely no concept of normal conversation. They have always been dead zeroed in on using every $5, $10, or even pinch of herb as a hook and line to try and create the kill scene. They have been, to each individual one, completely incapable of maintaining any pretends of normal personality or interests aside from flogging me over bud every time they see me.

Stupid. Just stupid.

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