if nobody's willing to buy? i mean, try me.
i've never been good at selling. i always lose money. impatience may be part of it. a trailer salesman once told me, 'if you're willing to wait, you'll get your price.' fat chance. not this kid.
part of it, of course, i hate having stuff. everything wears down: cars, clothes, shoes. at some point it goes in the trash, or it gets sold extra cheap. my last truck went for 700 dollars. damn, the tires were almost worth that. everytime i see it parked at barnes & noble, i want to steal them.
alas, theft and lying against my policy. not because i'm a good guy, but because i've discovered once i start stealing and lying, i can't stop. reality turns into one big cover up. and i can't keep track of everything. admittedly, jail might not be bad. free medical attention, which you might, unfortunately need. after walking around the medina in tangiers years ago, i was informed i might have been raped. luckily, it never occurred to me.
ras i was saying, i have all this camera equipment which i probably should sell. yet i can't think of a good reason. and what happens to my pro potential? yes, for the moment nobody's buying, but i'm convinced after i'm dead i'll be a cult object. everything i've touched will turn to gold. call me the 'king midas of memory.'
my salesman grandfather said when he sold bibles as a youth and doubled his money, he was convinced this was the occupation for him. nobody told him his father, an influence in the community, put the muscle on people. he chased that illusion his whole life, an ultimate avid supporter of ronald reagan, one of the greatest con artists who've ever lived. at my grandfather's memorial service people stood up and testified to what a shyster he could be. ostensibly, he had to leave his childhood home in ontario due to shady dealings.
a curse on profit, as much as i would like to make it. money, ugh, how can you touch it? give it to me.
