novembre ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ginger and gambling a throng of men huddled around the counter at seven-eleven, milling around and staring at their hands. i approached a familiar night clerk. "can you tell me how to buy a lotto ticket so that i might win eighty-eight million dollars?" he smiled and looked at my chest. one man beside the newspaper stand blurted out, "she's gonna win. the ones that never play are the ones that always win. she's gonna win." for a second they all looked at me like i was the prophesied messiah. "why aren't you playing?" someone asked the familiar clerk. "i am from east germany," he answered, and it sounded like the thirtieth time he'd answered that question in the last hour. he handed me a pencil and a rectangular piece of paper with orange numbers on it. i felt like when i was taking the SATs, sleepy on a saturday morning years ago, confused about what effect this minute test would have on my art-schooled future. but i dropped out of art school so i chose my numbers carefully. krissy loves the number twenty-three and i am twenty-three so that is a logical choice. dennis prefers thirty-three. mom thirteen and thirty-one. and so on, for three dollars' worth. "thank you for helping me," i said to the familiar clerk. "i hope i win because i owe my grandmother a thousand dollars." he looked at my chest and nodded. yes i have big tits you stare at them every time i come in here. i held the ticket gingerly until getting it safely into my car. that piece of paper, worth eighty-eight million dollars? what chance would i have? driving carefully home, i divided up the money in my head, who would get what, what i'd never have to do again. and then i watched a movie and forgot all about the ticket, until now, resting next to the keyboard. it doesn't seem so mystical anymore. just feels like gambling.
1:49 am - 02.10.02 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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