| john milton, professional book-seller and learnéd bastard. |
[27 Jul 2008|08:24pm] |
business is going very well at the moment, as usual, i'm always up to my baby blues in tourists and hipster teens--but why do i care if they're spending money? really, i don't. i just like watching them come and go in their fanny packs (oh, i adore that, that is so deliciously obscene of the americans and i am completely jealous that i was unable to think of it first) and their purple tights as they go through dog-earred copies of rubbish like austen and brontë and they buy it all and i grin and see the money signs. my revenue is up, as is something else. something that i won't mention, despite the fact that everyone who knows me knows that i am certainly not one to pay mind to social taboos and boundaries.
tomorrow i've planned to have the shop closed, for no reason at all. other than the fact that i enjoy sitting in my apartment upstairs with a nice cup of hot, sugary tea and watching all of my poor customers as they try to open the doors and then they wonder away with the most adorable little pout on their little lips and they try to find somewhere in this piss hole that even compares to what i offer them, though it's impossible, i assure you. no one can offer you what i can, and that's true in everything. everything.
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