Walgreen's™ is the Eden of the Bizarro World
Recovered: 10.12.04
[This post is the genesis of the 'Eden' Aspect of where I work/worked. Walgreen's™ was the Control Group in what I consider an on-going experiment in the Bizarre that is the East Lake/Highland Park/Blackbottom areas of Chattanooga.]
The Walgreen’s™ on Rossville Boulevard is a Mecca of Civilization in an Uncivilized landscape; a sanctuary in a place where people otherwise disregard prime-time television in lieu of sitting on their front porches for better play, and occasionally have sex with their sister.
I’ve oft suspected that the bright neon depiction of the Mortar and Pestle somehow serves as a Crucifix to the Weird, or perhaps its very Ivo Shandorian architecture is an affront to unhinged senses, where no Screwheads may pass--a radical corner-gateway concept that confuses the Doomed into submission, and frightens away those with Weak Constitutions.
They sell prescription drugs there by the sack full, yet no one breaks in after hours, or holds them up during the day time.
They sell lowfat and whole milk and Red Bull™ energy drinks alongside neon clocks and Hawaiian shirts, yet no one shoplifts.
Their parking lot smells neither of piss nor oil as are characteristic of all other surfaces in East Lake. There is a complete lack of indigent presence at the base of its walls, and even the litter that falls on the pristine pavement after the store has closed is whisked away as if by magic.
It is a good place; a Clean Place, where one can be as comfortable purchasing disposable cameras as they can be defecating in the unusually clean restroom.
Walgreen’s is a Rain-X™ for the Bizarre, and I, for one, appreciate it. Yet while I bask in its warm glow of Service with Savings and admire the fine landscaping (with its tasteful use of pine strips that are visually appealing, yet excel in moisture retention for the soil), I cannot help but ponder…is the object beauty of the place too good to be true? Is this place too perfect?
It is either the Flaw in the system that will one day prove East Lake is a Vast Trick and I was actually killed that night in the Silver Ball Room instead of carried out…or it’s simply an anchor point to Reality during otherwise unpalatable days.
Whichever the case, I embrace the trick. I hold fast to the anchor…for a little while.
For Eden has a Core.
[This post is the genesis of the 'Eden' Aspect of where I work/worked. Walgreen's™ was the Control Group in what I consider an on-going experiment in the Bizarre that is the East Lake/Highland Park/Blackbottom areas of Chattanooga.]
The Walgreen’s™ on Rossville Boulevard is a Mecca of Civilization in an Uncivilized landscape; a sanctuary in a place where people otherwise disregard prime-time television in lieu of sitting on their front porches for better play, and occasionally have sex with their sister.
I’ve oft suspected that the bright neon depiction of the Mortar and Pestle somehow serves as a Crucifix to the Weird, or perhaps its very Ivo Shandorian architecture is an affront to unhinged senses, where no Screwheads may pass--a radical corner-gateway concept that confuses the Doomed into submission, and frightens away those with Weak Constitutions.
They sell prescription drugs there by the sack full, yet no one breaks in after hours, or holds them up during the day time.
They sell lowfat and whole milk and Red Bull™ energy drinks alongside neon clocks and Hawaiian shirts, yet no one shoplifts.
Their parking lot smells neither of piss nor oil as are characteristic of all other surfaces in East Lake. There is a complete lack of indigent presence at the base of its walls, and even the litter that falls on the pristine pavement after the store has closed is whisked away as if by magic.
It is a good place; a Clean Place, where one can be as comfortable purchasing disposable cameras as they can be defecating in the unusually clean restroom.
Walgreen’s is a Rain-X™ for the Bizarre, and I, for one, appreciate it. Yet while I bask in its warm glow of Service with Savings and admire the fine landscaping (with its tasteful use of pine strips that are visually appealing, yet excel in moisture retention for the soil), I cannot help but ponder…is the object beauty of the place too good to be true? Is this place too perfect?
It is either the Flaw in the system that will one day prove East Lake is a Vast Trick and I was actually killed that night in the Silver Ball Room instead of carried out…or it’s simply an anchor point to Reality during otherwise unpalatable days.
Whichever the case, I embrace the trick. I hold fast to the anchor…for a little while.
For Eden has a Core.
posted by Longshot! [Sane] at 6:29 AM
1 Comments:
east lake is the hood i moved away not by my chois but my moms and i still call it home its the hood and not always a good place and dats just haow i liked it now peeps are upgrading it to try to make it better but they shuld just leave it alone leave it how it was the hood the place i call home and the home i will be back to soon
lilc
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