Up Against The Wall (Mart)

• The Speakers of the House
• Thank You, God

 I woke up at high noon.

Today (Thursday) might be the day that I return the 5 piece speaker system to Walmart so that $124 will be put back on my pandemic assistance unemployment "benefit" card.

Monday, Jacob and I trudged to the Walmart in Metarie, after having wrestled the box into the back seat of his car, which had the speakers in it.

We then used a cart to wheel it to the customer service area.

I wound up glad that we had gone to that particular store in Metarie (where Ellen Degeneris grew up, and where the world infamous motel where Jimmy Swaggart fell from grace, is. Whether or not Ellen Degeneris ever stayed at that motel is one for the researchers to pursue).

The staff, while predominately African American comprises the more civilized culture of them that you often find, living besides whites in affluent areas; areas where people like Ellen Degeneris grew up in.

The last time I went to the Tchopitoulis Walmart, I had taken the bus.

While waiting for the returning home bus at the stop outside the store, I found myself sitting besides two young black girls who were wearing Walmart vests. They were both rather pudgy in appearance, and were eating cheeseburgers and talking with their mouths full.

"You said a mouthful, there!"

Their conversation revolved around some of their friends, and who the fathers of those girls children were. One girl informed the other that a mutual acquaintance of theirs had been impregnated by a guy whom they also both knew. What a small world. The guy was described through the lens of what kind of car he drove, and how big a monthly disability check he had been able to finagle.

The conversation starter had been a black guy in a used red Honda Civic who had been circling the block and who, I guess, tried to "holler" at one or both of them. 

The deal breaker had been the used Civic. He must be crazy if he expects me to get with him when he drive that ratty old thing, was the gist of the first girl's message.

This opened a conversation about what kind of cars the current boyfriends of other girls the knew drove. It became clear that the red Honda would have been something that she could never have saved face over, if any boyfriend of hers drove it. Her friends in the projects who had nicer boyfriends (boyfriends with nice cars, that is) would ridicule her.

And so the car circled a couple times with the guy slowing down and offering a palms raised gesture to them, as if to say: I'm riding around trying to pick up a sex partner (or two) off the street. I'm a nigga with a car; that's a big difference (a whole car) from a nigga without a car, so what's up girls?

I got the impression that if a guy had come by in a nice enough car then the pudgy and not very attractive -especially with their mouths displaying half chewed cheeseburgers whenever they opened them wide, which occurred often, as they were basically yelling their conversation back and forth.

Such and such a girl's "man" drove a really nice convertible of some sort; which allowed the world to see the expensive clothes he wore, after he put the top down. Such and such a girl was doing good. One of them barked out the list of who the fathers of her 4 children were. If a car that nice came along then one or both of them might not be taking the bus home.

And, so that seemed to be the ploy of red Honda man. There were girls out there who had to ride buses everywhere; let me ride by the stops, showing off the fact that I have a car; and maybe find one who will be willing to trade sex for access to the automobile.

But, the Metarie Walmart is just a nicer environment. The blacks there not only understand English but the lady at the register actually chuckled over a couple things I said that would have probably gone right over the heads of the half chewed cheeseburger mouthed girls. That lady had a Caribbean accent and was certainly a breed above the damaged individuals who were born and "raised" here in the deep south.

So we got the box to customer service where I was told that I needed to have an order number or something that should have been e-mailed to me.

This didn't test my patience much. I decided to leave the box there in the cart and then go do other shopping; leaving the return for another day.

We went into the electronics section where I discovered a much bigger selection than there had been in the ghetto situated Walmart where we had gone the last time. I can't remember the name of the street that one is on, but I'm sure if I Googled: "Man found dead of gunshot wounds" and scrolled down, that name would be mentioned among the top results.

There, in the electronics section was a speaker system for 69 bucks which was the next step up from the 30 dollar system I have been listening to for the past 6 years or so.

It almost seemed sensible that I move up just one level; from 25 to 40 watts; from 30 to 69 bucks; and wind up trading my existing system up to the next model up on their line. Kind of like driving a Chevy Chevette for 4 years and then, after having gotten regular raises and maybe a promotion, trading it in and moving up to the Impala.

But, not the Corvette, that particular model is fit for those about 25 years down the road, who have finally been promoted to "regional manager" or something.

The speakers that I sent off for were the Corvette. They were regularly $169, but I had found a "refurbished" set for $124. Only, that Corvette wouldn't start.

So, I put the 69 dollar ones (the Impala) in the cart, thinking that I may have gone overboard a little in wanting to go from 25 to 100 watts, and that, volume-wise I would hardly ever be utilizing all 100 watts; especially after the 10 PM through 6 AM "quiet time" that we try to observe at Sacred Heart.

I felt like I had made the right choice. I would still get the $124 refunded, but would go ahead and spend an additional 69 bucks. Just being able to go home and plug them in, rather than having to wait for them to arrive by UPS was enticing.

I wound up getting a 3 pound bag of catfish fillets, not without being plagued by a bit of inner turmoil over the question of vegetarianism or not.

I am reading Buddhist literature that warns that, by eating flesh, you are increasing the suffering in the world and it has a global effect which will come back to bite you, like the fish that bit the hook. Life begets life; death begets death" so I compromised and got the 3 pound bag of catfish fillets instead of a 4 pound bag of Swai fillets (which I heard something negative about in regards to them being "farm raised" and what that entails).

But then, I was on my way to hook Harold up in the cat food section, which is tucked away in a remote spot, in between the pharmaceutical section and the household appliances, and one aisle away from the "clearance" aisle.

I hadn't known that they had a clearance aisle, but there it was, a few shelves of random things with...wait for it...the exact speaker system that I was attempting to return, with a bit of cosmetic damage to the box and a 99 dollar price tag on it.

The Cadillac of ONN systems, the $169 dollar set which I had found for $124 online, but which was broken, and now, I snapped one up for even 24 dollars less.

So much for "quiet time" at Sacred Heart...

I think that God was tipping me for taking care of Harold the cat, because I had just splurged on a case of Fancy Feast "florentine" salmon; something that Harold eats with ardour and relish.

So, Jacob did me the favor (to work for the sushi I got him) of putting the speakers which would have been a sensible upgrade to my current system and the next step up, towards eventually having the loudest stereo in Sacred Heart Apartments, back in electronics (unless he just went around the corner and chucked it somewhere like what is common at the ghetto situated Walmart)

And so that is the story of why I am getting up each morning (at noon) lately and, thanks to my laptop being connected to my neighbor Wayne's router once again; either through some glitch or maybe his having enabled "share this connection" after having put me on a veritable probation after I had used the Tor Browser to go into the deep dark web, which made his anti malware program give him some kind of warning.

But, for now, I have been blessed with a 100 dollar speaker system that sounds like a $169 one. The logic there is that it sounds exactly the way it would had I paid the full price of $169 plus tax.

And I have been blessed with my neighbor's WIFI and his terabytes of data available.

I am putting "join The Writer's Den" on my to do list."

For something like thirty bucks a month, they have staff working "there" that will prompt you to write and will critique that writing and will provide access to resources, such as where to sell your writing, or how to find a paying job writing, type of thing.

Writers Den, And Now.

I knew about the website, but had kind of forgotten about it. There is something like a 40% chance that you will make money as a writer in some capacity, using their program. That sounds good to me, considering that a certain percentage of people who join might have no proclivity towards writing, and they are the ones who would be dragging that statistic down to the 40% success rate that they, for what it's worth, advertise on their website. The Writer's Den.

A guy who used to work at Uxi Duxi left that job to take one that paid 5 times more, which was as a "technical" writer. He credited the Writer's Den for giving him an avenue towards that job.

They also give members assignments, and deadlines. Write 500 words describing your neighborhood" for example. They can then possibly steer you in the direction of a career as a travel writer, if you display an aptitude for that, type of thing...