America Day 56 – Supermarket

A very lazy Sunday. Now I’m in a supermarket. I don’t even know why. Claire is stocking up on miso soup and snacks.

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I’m walking through the aisles astonished by the sheer quantity of stuff. Cinnamon and Apple everything. Instant roast cow with horns – just add water! Sugary drinks galore. Carbonated water that advertises itself as being “caffeine free” leading me to wonder if you can get fizzy water that has caffeine in it here somewhere as well. I wouldn’t be surprised. Piped music and adverts – this shop has its own radio station for customers.  Open fronted fridges belching money into the atmosphere so you can just grab the thing. I haven’t got a basket. I’ve been rinsing my per diems on expensive meals so I need to make sure I don’t impulse buy 300 bags of caramelised pecans like I did in Buckys, and end up broke with nothing but snacks for my roadtrip at the end of the job.

It seemed a clever idea to start hitting the double whisky last night after the gig. As a result I lost the best part of the day. Never clever to mix drinks, but if I haven’t learnt by now I expect I never will. This morning found me curled up under my duvet occasionally scratching steaming and hissing when the light came close to me. Now I’m in a supermarket looking for miso soup and it feels like an adventure. It’s dark outside, and the reality of this season is beginning to dawn on me. The clocks went back in the UK. The long nights are upon us, and I got myself precisely no vitamin D all day.

Claire and Jono had a lovely day exploring the local area while I mouldered in my own stink. They regaled me with photographs and stories as I sat next to them unresponsive and in my own private hell of hunger. I’d like to have explored a bit, seen the creeks and the bridges, but until about half an hour ago I was completely and utterly useless. Now I’ve achieved a supermarket and that’ll be the extent of the day.


I didn’t buy anything. I probably should have bought some fruit. Meat meat meat, this country. With fries. But rarely a vegetable to be seen. Bread and meat and starch and sauce and booze and ranch dressing. I have no idea how the vegetarians have managed it. They’d have eaten nothing but cheese for weeks. Vegans would be dead. Your tomato soup has crushed bacon on top. Your vegetable soup is definitely made with beef stock. Your Bloody Mary comes with a dead pig. Pigs and cows and chickens. Chickens cows and pigs. Conveyor belts into grinder, down our gullet and all the way through us, get some more. No wonder they put caffeine in the water. Speeds up the digestion. I’m having a bath. Then I’ll probably get back into bed and sleep some more. You heard it here first, people. Rock and roll? Rock and fucking roll.

 

Author: albarclay

This blog is a work of creative writing. Do not mistake it for truth. All opinions are mine and not that of my numerous employers.

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