Sex World: World of Sex Week Two
Just back in from Iowa City and in no mood to be here tonight. Not only that but the store is still bustlin' with creeps at 4:45a. I got in trouble earlier when some drunk and his buddy were causing a ruckus and I railed to radio it in. I didn't think they were that bad, but they got booted when the drunk feel on the floor. They were wearing matching A shirts and jeans. They had a sober girl with them who didn't want to be with them. Hard to look at, so I looked away.
I had a prostitute come in, a hot one, and solicit a guy going into the booths. He turned her down. I got to enjoy the whole show on closed circuit tv, shot by our trusty security cams.
And I've got this guy who's been trying on dresses and hot pants and tops for over an hour. I don't think he's wearing underpants and though that's unspeakably gross, I just don't care enough to say anything. I just want him out.
I've got a fucking cart of porno to rewind. I'm tired and hungry. Bored out of my wits. Thinking about doing some Ritalin. Maybe make a night out of it.
602a
So the creepy guy left about a half hour ago after two hours of trying stuff on. He didn't buy anything. He said he had to go get cash. Right after he left, Douglas called from downstairs and said he wasn't allowed in the store anymore. Apparently, this is his thing and we're no longer going to allow it. Lucky for me, Douglas wasn't mad. I neglected to mention my suspicions that the guy might have been jerking off in the bathroom.
Forgot to mention the troll that was in here earlier. He was trying to flirt with me. He was dressed in camouflage, overweight, foreign looking and plagued with a heavy midwestern accent. I looked as bored as I possibly could until he left. Apparently, he had walked here from NE Minneapolis, which he claimed was a half-hour cab ride. "I got bored around my house," he said, "so I decided to walk to Sex World."
It's been a sad night. I bet it's light out.
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
July 4
Not much doing tonite. Reading "Wouldn't It Be Nice." Easy, engaging. So that's why there's not much writing.
This is my second Independence Day in Minneapolis, and it will probably turn out to be something of a let down, similar to the first. No friends, nothin' much to do. Probably go see the fireworks, get drunk and light shit off from my back yard. Can't complain but where oh where can my baby be? Looking forward to driving to Wisconsin after work to pick up firecrackers.
The music and the buzzing neon will drive me crazy. Soon.
This is my second Independence Day in Minneapolis, and it will probably turn out to be something of a let down, similar to the first. No friends, nothin' much to do. Probably go see the fireworks, get drunk and light shit off from my back yard. Can't complain but where oh where can my baby be? Looking forward to driving to Wisconsin after work to pick up firecrackers.
The music and the buzzing neon will drive me crazy. Soon.
July 3
345a: Feeling all sorts of beat up earlier. My body is taking its time adjusting to day sleeping. But I took the speed before work more just for fun. It was one of the pills I stole from Betsy, the good ones.
It came on just as I slid my till shit and I felt just fine. Jumpy. Hyper. Just fine. I still feel pretty good now, only I've begun to worry if I didn't gof something earlier while in the grips of the drug. I don't think I did, but who knows. Probably best not to worry. Probably just nickel and dime stuff.
Otherwise it's been an uneventful night, which is the way I like it. I'm not thrilled to go up to the Triange tomorrow and all of next week. Creepy dudes, rentals, making endless change and more interaction with the cleaners. I like being quiet and anitsocial in my little corner here. Maybe I'll say something to Melissa.
"Remember your training and you WILL make it back alive."
"Do I look like a fucking people person?"
"Love."
"Curious balancing."
(starred) "I'm a scream, I work at night."
(starred) "Where oh where can my baby be?"
445a: I am a long, strange and sensual man. I wear ape suits on weekends and fight rush hour once a day. WHO AM I?
550a: "I can only hope...botulism..."
The heavy rain is making me worry about my car and room windows. I would hate to go home to a wet bed and would just feel lousy if I soaked my car (again). Not to mention riding home in the rain probably won't be too much fun. No need to worry about that yet. Still three and a half hours to go. Yum. Nothing's happnin tonite. I wish I was reading something more exciting than "Mohawk." Russo started off strong, but I get the feeling too many people told him they "hated when his bookes ended!" and so he's really stretching these last hundred pages. I've gotta get some good reading material.
And even though everybody told me I'd hate "Shakespeare in Love," I liked it.
620a: Two weird things just happened. First, this guy bought a pack of Reds and asked if we had Poloroid film. I told him no, but he tipped me a dollar for some reason. I tried to refuse it, but he just walked away, leaving it on the counter. Then my pretzels disappeared. But then I found them. Weird.
7a: Just closed my eyes and feel asleep for a second and had a very vivid dream but I can't remember it. Prompt: Police officers lifting tape and directing cars with exaggerated sweeping gestures.
It came on just as I slid my till shit and I felt just fine. Jumpy. Hyper. Just fine. I still feel pretty good now, only I've begun to worry if I didn't gof something earlier while in the grips of the drug. I don't think I did, but who knows. Probably best not to worry. Probably just nickel and dime stuff.
Otherwise it's been an uneventful night, which is the way I like it. I'm not thrilled to go up to the Triange tomorrow and all of next week. Creepy dudes, rentals, making endless change and more interaction with the cleaners. I like being quiet and anitsocial in my little corner here. Maybe I'll say something to Melissa.
"Remember your training and you WILL make it back alive."
"Do I look like a fucking people person?"
"Love."
"Curious balancing."
(starred) "I'm a scream, I work at night."
(starred) "Where oh where can my baby be?"
445a: I am a long, strange and sensual man. I wear ape suits on weekends and fight rush hour once a day. WHO AM I?
550a: "I can only hope...botulism..."
The heavy rain is making me worry about my car and room windows. I would hate to go home to a wet bed and would just feel lousy if I soaked my car (again). Not to mention riding home in the rain probably won't be too much fun. No need to worry about that yet. Still three and a half hours to go. Yum. Nothing's happnin tonite. I wish I was reading something more exciting than "Mohawk." Russo started off strong, but I get the feeling too many people told him they "hated when his bookes ended!" and so he's really stretching these last hundred pages. I've gotta get some good reading material.
And even though everybody told me I'd hate "Shakespeare in Love," I liked it.
620a: Two weird things just happened. First, this guy bought a pack of Reds and asked if we had Poloroid film. I told him no, but he tipped me a dollar for some reason. I tried to refuse it, but he just walked away, leaving it on the counter. Then my pretzels disappeared. But then I found them. Weird.
7a: Just closed my eyes and feel asleep for a second and had a very vivid dream but I can't remember it. Prompt: Police officers lifting tape and directing cars with exaggerated sweeping gestures.
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
July 2
I'm trying not to think of far away places and the struggle of love over pragmatism and a young trashy looking blonde just did something I'll never forget.
She bought a box of Marlb 100s (editor's note: author currently posted in "smoke shop" section of Sex World, on the main floor, near the rear entrance) and a Hustler Humor magazine, saying she "loved the jokes." She get every ish, every month. And if makes me so happy to think of her at home, reading dirty jokes and laughing hysterically. She'll never know how happy that just made me. Such and old feeling and no one to toast it with.
5a: As pussy shit as this sounds, especially considering the environment, it's still true that Sarah McFuckingGlaughlin can reduce me to tears. Thank you very much New Orleans, Becca, Riddlin and booze!
I'm an idiot.
And it becomes clearer and clearer I can't stay here. Now when there's an exceptional life out there just waiting to be led.
I should shut up about this kind of thing.
7a: There's been a a lot of jawing on the walkies in the past hour. Mostly from Ben upstairs. He was going on and on about this Native American guy who was puking loudly in the bathroom. When he came out, Ben said he yelled at him (though I'm sure Ben probably yelled something stupid). The guy came down and Douglas escorted him out. Only when Douglas turned around, the guy sucker punched him. That's when Douglas went to town on that guy.
By the time I got over there, the guy was on the ground and Douglas was still kicking him. The look in his eyes was scary. Christian was right. Douglas may need anger management.
But since he beat that guy up, he's been a total lamb. I guess he got it out of him, whatever it was.
7:45a: A hamburger and fries just showed up. I think I'm supposed to eat it.
7:55a: Well that was the first cheeseburger deluxe plate I've ever eaten before 8am, and you know, what a phenomenon.
My body feels strange. I have a two hour old headache, my first dose of caffine beginning to take and now a very full stomach.
I've never lived like this. It's a different sort of gig. Selling porn and drugware all night, seeing a guy get beat up, using walkie talkies, eating free burgers for breakfast, smoking cigarettes in front of the registar, 10ing cigs, watching morning come to Minneapolis through a glass door.
It's all new. It's feels strange. The music and flourescents are getting to me. I need to shit. Summer 99. What an odd time...
She bought a box of Marlb 100s (editor's note: author currently posted in "smoke shop" section of Sex World, on the main floor, near the rear entrance) and a Hustler Humor magazine, saying she "loved the jokes." She get every ish, every month. And if makes me so happy to think of her at home, reading dirty jokes and laughing hysterically. She'll never know how happy that just made me. Such and old feeling and no one to toast it with.
5a: As pussy shit as this sounds, especially considering the environment, it's still true that Sarah McFuckingGlaughlin can reduce me to tears. Thank you very much New Orleans, Becca, Riddlin and booze!
I'm an idiot.
And it becomes clearer and clearer I can't stay here. Now when there's an exceptional life out there just waiting to be led.
I should shut up about this kind of thing.
7a: There's been a a lot of jawing on the walkies in the past hour. Mostly from Ben upstairs. He was going on and on about this Native American guy who was puking loudly in the bathroom. When he came out, Ben said he yelled at him (though I'm sure Ben probably yelled something stupid). The guy came down and Douglas escorted him out. Only when Douglas turned around, the guy sucker punched him. That's when Douglas went to town on that guy.
By the time I got over there, the guy was on the ground and Douglas was still kicking him. The look in his eyes was scary. Christian was right. Douglas may need anger management.
But since he beat that guy up, he's been a total lamb. I guess he got it out of him, whatever it was.
7:45a: A hamburger and fries just showed up. I think I'm supposed to eat it.
7:55a: Well that was the first cheeseburger deluxe plate I've ever eaten before 8am, and you know, what a phenomenon.
My body feels strange. I have a two hour old headache, my first dose of caffine beginning to take and now a very full stomach.
I've never lived like this. It's a different sort of gig. Selling porn and drugware all night, seeing a guy get beat up, using walkie talkies, eating free burgers for breakfast, smoking cigarettes in front of the registar, 10ing cigs, watching morning come to Minneapolis through a glass door.
It's all new. It's feels strange. The music and flourescents are getting to me. I need to shit. Summer 99. What an odd time...
Begin Here.
Sexworld - world of sex
July 1
My first night on the job, if you don't count training, which I don't. Training was peaches. There was someone there to keep me from screwing up, which was nice. More importantly, there was someone there to make the coffee.
I'll have to figure out a plan, a recipe.
The company wasn't so bad, either. This hasn't been the longest night I've ever sat through and hardly the lonliest. But it sure did have it's share of dull moments.
My eyes feel raw now and I'm tired of breathing recirculated air. The music has sucked all night.
When I was in training I thought this job might keep me in Minneapolis. I thought it would be enough for me to endure the hassle of finding new digs and the long hard cold. I'm no quitter! I thought.
I'm not too jumpy to get out of here, but shit. I'd rather go to Mexico and live like a king than sit through nights like this, especially when getting off means going out into the cold and driving to some shitbox apt somewhere and probably not writing.
I'm really more of a drifter than a slacker.
But I'm more of a slacker drifter than a real drifter. Mostly cuz I'm so obnoxious.
July 1
My first night on the job, if you don't count training, which I don't. Training was peaches. There was someone there to keep me from screwing up, which was nice. More importantly, there was someone there to make the coffee.
I'll have to figure out a plan, a recipe.
The company wasn't so bad, either. This hasn't been the longest night I've ever sat through and hardly the lonliest. But it sure did have it's share of dull moments.
My eyes feel raw now and I'm tired of breathing recirculated air. The music has sucked all night.
When I was in training I thought this job might keep me in Minneapolis. I thought it would be enough for me to endure the hassle of finding new digs and the long hard cold. I'm no quitter! I thought.
I'm not too jumpy to get out of here, but shit. I'd rather go to Mexico and live like a king than sit through nights like this, especially when getting off means going out into the cold and driving to some shitbox apt somewhere and probably not writing.
I'm really more of a drifter than a slacker.
But I'm more of a slacker drifter than a real drifter. Mostly cuz I'm so obnoxious.
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