09.09.018

Friday 09/09/09, Beatles Rock Band was released. I worked at Blockbuster. We were to rent out not only the game, but apparently guitar controllers and electronic drum pads as well. The game did not do as well as expected, nor do I remember if we actually carried aforementioned guitar controllers or drum pads available for rental. Probably not. My memory is terrible, and I'm probably fabricating some of this.

I saw Tim Burton's movie "9" with my father. I thought we saw it on opening night, though, again, my memory does not serve me. I remember working my first shift at Target directly afterwards, and being so hungry that I threw up popcorn kernels and probably-rancid oil-based butter substitute. I worked more than 5 hours straight without a meal break; my first meal code violation on my first shift, though this should have been and was the responsibility of my trainer, with whom I was zoning in the Grocery department; learning about how the store's shelves were "left-justified," meaning that the label for each facing of product was to the left of the product itself, and the product merchandised to the right. I learned how to read a shelf schematic, and where to look on the shelf label to determine how many facings each piece of product was to have on the shelf.

I had just had my wisdom teeth out not a few weeks before, and my parents had divorced either right after or right before. I'm pretty sure the date of their divorce (which was a date, in a way; they went out for coffee afterwards and discussed how they might again date someday, once my mom had leveled out from her "pink cloud" sobriety status) was September 5th, the date of my orientation and official hire at Target. Again, my memory does not serve me.

Today, it is nine years later. Breakfast is dread, psych meds, and cold coffee gulped straight from yesterday's pot; overheard: meditation for an excessive hour to an paid-for app which is personified by the voice of a British man. British men are experts, don't you know. British people and their centuries-long colonial occupations are so sweet, and cute, and knowledgeable, and pure. Duh. Everyone knows that, though no-one knows that.

Empty here, if you don't count the volumes of misplaced judgment, corrosive acid. I have traveled distances, yet have realized no displacement.

My memory does not serve me.