I walked to the grocery store tonight, where I believe I looked like a total crazy person, as I tried to find good bubble bath for, like, 20 fucking minutes. I'd pace the aisle and then wander around the store, looking for other things, pick up nothing and then return to the shampoos and conditioners. But all I could find was Mr. goddamn Bubble.
And I could tell people who were looking at milk and condoms near the shampoo and conditioner aisle were wondering just what the hell I was up to, as if I was discovering spiritual meaning in bath bottles.
Anyway, I just bought the damn Mr. Bubble along with some candy, all while I was wearing big headphones around my neck.
But at least, on the way home, I had Stan Getz's live saxophone to tell me, "Yo, fuck those people, Jake. Eat that candy, take a bubble bath if you want, and fuck some shit up, bro."
And I thought, "You know what? You're right, Stan Getz's saxophone. Your lulling summer brass tones speak to me when I doubt even civilization. Shit, I'm gonna build a time machine just to fuck you while Stan ain't looking."
Hmmmm.
Ok, ok, ok, I admit that last part did sound kind of crazy.
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