Bookstore Possiblities.

It's hard to wake up in my old house. My parents house. The air tickles my throat attempting to kill the oxygen running through my lungs. With every breath it feels like prickly splinters of glass riding inside every inhalation.

I just got back from Sonoma, Napa, and Clearlake, with my friend Nathan. I didn't have a place to sleep last night. I do, I really do have a place to sleep at night, which would be my parent's house. But, that would mean sleeping in a hole that my parent's have made called home. Long story short, my mom's a horder, and my brother is, well, pretty much an 8 year old boy who sees something out in the world and decides to bring it home. He's around 30 years old. Delapidated is an understatement.

I went to bed early last night, somehow sleeping before the Late Show with Carson Daly finished. I woke up at 8:45 to the throat prickling. I got up, took my shower, and got in my car with no direction, but every excuse to leave.

I ended up at Barnes and Nobles, being that I promised myself to read a book by Jean Chatsky that would further acknowledge me on the boutiful yields of saving the money I don't have. As I was grabbing a small cup of water in the mini cafe which they usually have at Barnes and Nobles, I noticed the girl at the hand off station. Not in a lusty smitten sense, but a memorable one.

"Hey didn't you go to *blank blank* High School?"
"Yeah, I did go to *blank blank* High School!"

Her name was Amanda. She didn't remember me probably because she was a Junior when I was a Freshmen. We talked. This being somewhat a forced set, I let the conversation run it's course, without making any sudden risky maneuvers. Forced sets are people you have to talk to, or have some minor field of acquaintedness, such as the ugly nerdy guy you have to talk to at school because he sits next to you everyday, or the really hot chick you wouldn't get the privilege to talk to on regular terms, but since you work together in a tiny environment, you have to.

"20 ducks says your a virgo," I said after she got her several frappacinos and lattes. I was walking her to her work nearby.
"Nope," she said disregarding the duck remark.
"Okay, nevermind then."
For a moment she smiled somewhat hopeful in waiting for me to guess again, "I'm an aries, are you into astrology?"
"No," I said conivingly blunt.
"I use to be into astrology," she said, "But it's so vague y'know. . . ."

We continued to talk until we found ourselves stopped next to the entrance of her work building.

"So me and my friends are throwing this bonfire next week, and you should totally come," says the foreplay of every marginally successful number close used when lacking substantial amounts of comfort and attraction.
"Oh I'm actually going out of town next week, I'm going to Oregon," she said, as I still held my phone.
"Oh cool, I actually just got back from Sonoma like yesterday,"
"Awesome how was it?"
"It was cool," I said. I held my phone in front of her, "Here put your number in my phone," says the more dilberate encompassing phone pass which also keeps open a large margin of success. She put her number in, I called her, even though she didn't have her phone with her, hugged her, and let her get off to work.


* * * * * * *

I ran into an old church friend when I came back to Barnes. We had lunch at subway, was charged for Spinach twice which pissed me off because the guy originally placed 3 sorry looking leaves on my sandwich. After lunch, Josh and I, Josh the guy from my old church, sat next to each other without saying anything as I got through several pages of a Jean Chatsky book, before he left. I walked over to the ***** nearby, and hit on the girl across the counter. Being that I worked there a long time ago, our conversation kind of resembling a duplicating meaning to a forced set. Number closed, texted, Metro phone wouldn't let me text her, came back to Barnes and hit on a girl with a boyfriend.

"Hey," I said tapping the back of her baggy hooded sweater, "I got to say, I think you're incredibly beautiful."
"Oh thanks!" It's the sort of reply you get when you throw out an under genuine compliment.

Very felt direct openers, or complementary openers, suck everytime you don't use a plotline to it, one that builds a more dramatic uptake. That's why there's steps; you pull on the arm, take her away from where she currently is, if she's walking stop her, and then tell her why you stopped her. I just saw you from over there, and I gotta be totally honest, BAM! We have perfect landing for a direct opener.


"I'm Jon!" I said stretching my hand out in front of her."
"I'm * * * *, I have a boyfriend."
"That's awesome," I said sarcastically. This is terrible game. Even if she had a boyfriend I should be on my best foot. "I'm guess the really baggy sweater is his?"
She laughed histerically, "Yeah kinda," she said lifting a smile.

I went on to pick up Angel's Game, the next book on anyone's list who has read The Shadow of the Wind. I took the book to the table nearest to the next attractive girl in the whole store. I believe she just sat down, making my approach now, seem rather annoying. Gotta read, gotta read, guy comes up and talks to me, DAMMIT! Don't want that now, do I. I don't want to open too many sets it the same environment, because that just looks terrible and shallow.

As I read I engaged a stunningly hard word, that's used quite frequently in writing. I'm not a great reader, I'm not even close to well read. I try my best not to sit next to a dictionary because it keeps me from being captivated in the flow of any book. However, I felt like grabbing a dictionary, so I did. I asked the attractive girl if she could watch my stuff, and she said yes, so I left. I could see baggy sweater girl perched on the floor by the music books. I've basically lived here, so I know where everything's at. In the next aisle, the Astrology slash philosophy aisle, I was hoping to find a dictionary, but instead found another HB knelt to the level of the lower shelf in the philosophy section. The girl was a simple more smaller proportion. Her jacket read Northface, brown hair, light tempting skin, all things any guy thinks about when they're gawking at someone they don't know.

"So you're taking philosophy?" Yep, it's hunting season.
"Yeah, can you tell?" she said looking up at me, her face was one of those sparkling lit up faces. Her bright skin, teethy smile, and auburn hair, spoke in glistening sparkles.
"Kind of, so what school are you taking it at?" For a split second I can identify myself as interviewing her, "SF state?" Cold read, that's better.
"Yeah, how'd you know."
"Because I went to City."
"So, what's that say about me going to State?"
"You look smart, or smarter than me," I said blundering consciously, immediately wanting to punch myself in the face with a refrigerator. The rest of our conversation was condemned to awkward interview questions. I pulled out the phone number foreplay, but for some reason didn't even go for the number. She was leaving, it was awkward, whatever. Cheap number closes, number closes deprived of comfort, aren't my thing. Or maybe they are, but I should really stop doing that and shoot for an obvious more playful tone which should already pull the number close for me. Gotta be aware of "Buyer's remorse."

Buyer's Remorse: It's a real word actually. In PUA usage, it means when a girl gives you a number, or kisses you, or has sex with you, and regrets it, because you either didn't build comfort or a real connection.


I went back to my book, dictionary'less, next to the attractive nerdy girl. After several minutes, several pages, and very short chapters, I crept up and finally went to open her.

"Hey," I said tapping one end of her table. She looked up at me with anxious confused eyes, "I'm just about to leave, but I got to say, you have this very adorable nerdiness to you." Her head sank back as she let out a pouncing laugh, "So who studies on a Friday night?"
"Oh I have a final on Monday," she said.
"You're studying. . ." For a minute I thought about the direction I wanted this conversation to lead. I stared at the large textbook laid out in front of her, An Astronaut" I should've said Spaceman.
She laughed, "No I'm working to be a nurse."
"Really?" I said tilting my head suggestively.
"Yeah," she replied.

"That's original."

I nervously pulled up a chair next to her and told her to take a 10 minute break.
"But, I've only been studying for 15 minutes," she replied.


(To be continued)