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Tending Other Torments
The supermarket business is uglier than most things. It is normally perceived as some kind of cruel and shallow money trench through the heart of the retail industry, a long plastic hallway where thieves and pimps run free and good men die like dogs, for no good reason. While tending to the inescapable madness festering inside me due to working retail in a small local supermarket, I first offered these blustery malcontents of Manic Mart in 1998, which ought to be far enough in the Internet past for it to be erased from the world's memory. It refuses to be erased, however. I should myself be glad to disown it for various reasons, but this is not permitted. I receive email after email from obsessed fanatics. I read messages from clerks who try to win my attention with obsequious sycophancy. I get requests from customers who expect me to divulge my subversive truths. Even if their intention is to self-correct, I do not have the patience.
Anyhow, it seems likely to survive while other projects of mine, that I value more, die slow deaths. This is not an unusual experience for an artist. Rachmaninoff used to groan because he was known mainly for a Prelude in C Sharp Minor which he wrote as a boy, while the works of his maturity never got into the programs. Kids cut their pianistic teeth on Minuet in G which Beethoven composed only so that he could detest it. I have to go on with Manic Mart, and this means I have a sort of authorial duty to it.
"Quod scripsi scripsi" said Pontius Pilate when he made Jesus Christ the King of the Jews. "What I have written I have written." We can destroy what we have written, but we cannot unwrite it. I can, however, and will, refurbish this site back to glory. Because, if you haven't heard, after a decade of living in the light and getting fat on ambrosia and smiles, I'm back in the biz, baby. And as for my adventures living like the other half? The memories have already dissipated into oblivion. Forever.
A taste of things to come:
Manic Mart is a passionate strike against the perpetually ignorant conglomerate known humbly as
supermarket customers.
Within these pages you will find a compendium of atrocious misdeeds and lurid acts about YOU.
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