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Thread: You are in a Supermarket.

  1. #131
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    Imma bump ya mhc.

    Quote Originally Posted by mhc View Post
    1) Oh the smell. more than anything about the bread isle is the smell. such a delight. i hesitantly grip the handles of the trolly tight as i push through the isle without giving myself the time to fully indulge in the feeling, instead favouring the cold hard duties of necessity.
    The smell mhc, why abandon the smell? Why walk past it? Did you really smell it or did you imagine it? Did you have a choice? Well other shit's more important now, even if only with hesitance.

    Something is drawing you away from your instinctive pleasure: an obligation, a responsibility, a dependent, maybe even a distrust of those wanting you to buy bread. That might not be a bad thing. The bread in supermarkets smells better than it tastes anyways.

    2) i scan the dates on the other milk bottles. i know i still have a full 2 litre in the fridge as i always have one bottle on the go and a back up. i decide to leave the epitome of stock rotator laziness in the form a a milk bottle in favour of relying on my own backup plan.
    A sense of responsibility and structure, of independence, not one to lean on someone else at least for the material things. You're not quick to trust, maybe you've been stung that way before or maybe you just grew up that way.

    3) no sense of situational awareness! am i wrong for not putting myself first and being considerate of others and knowing when im in the way, or should i be so self obsessed in my own doings that others should wait for me. should i be more patient? anyway fuck all that - "excuse me mate, can you please move."
    There's an empathy in you but not all others are like you. You draw an equivalence between him and you but you are not the same quantity, nor even really the same unit. That could be you on another occasion though, is that why he's like you? Not the clichéd old lady? You switched places with him. Not everyone would do that with someone standing in the way of the Oreos.

    4) sale? you mean more stock that needs to move that isn't already. toothpaste, dog food, rice, salt, flour.
    All those are non-perishables though, why would they need to move that stuff? You riffed off the abstract banality thinking who buys that shit, but everyone does, now and again. And you know you have salt in your life too. Whatever else it is you're looking for it seems like you need to find it by yourself, it won't be handed to you. And you're bored with the detail of it, just waiting for the epiphany you don't expect will come, at least not in the systematic way.

    5) fluoride. blue fluoride, aka mouthwash. being so watery its spread everywhere in the hard, white polished floor. the alcoholly smell wafts into my nostrils. i recall all the bottles of this shit that i buy and never end up using because of all the crap I've read about fluoride and of the dilemma it courses me as i don't like to waste money or things, so the bottles sit there. i might use them one day and its not like it goes off. i have two bottles in the cupboard now, that should be enough...
    Again there is a sense of hedging and of saving for a rainy day. You don't even use mouthwash because of the flouride thing so why is it "comforting" to have two bottles of it? The best answer seems to be "just in case". Again there's a lack of trust here, with the flouride, with the stocks of mouthwash, with the sterline hard white polished floor, the rigidity of the system, a distaste for the status quo, the corporate supermarket, the water.

    6)(To checkout chic as i start loading my groceries onto checkout) "Hi how are you today that was good timing"
    ... but here there's finally a sense of optimism, like you don't attribute your luck to the system, but rather to this one particular checkout girl in whom you see the good.

    You distrust the system and maybe even society, but something connects you directly to people.

  2. #132
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    Quote Originally Posted by Mercurial View Post
    Looks like a standard bread aisle with brass shelving, but the loaves of bread keep floating across the aisle and exchanging places with other loaves.
    Yeah, I hate it when that happens.

    Also, what's with the standard brass bread-aisle shelving? That's the most first world thing I've ever heard.

    Three-point swish it into the deep fryer in the deli.
    That is the most north american thing I've ever heard. I mean what other sort of civilisation has a deep frier in a fucking deli? Do the Scots count as a civilisation?
    Also you're probably not that great at sports.

    The person is a guy who looks vaguely familiar, needs a haircut, and is wearing a long -sleeved green flannel shirt with blue jeans and a beat up pair of black Chucks.
    You need a haircut and a new pair of black Chucks.

    Blue Bitches. No, I don't buy any.
    The capital 'B' on Bitches and your general attention to grammar suggests I dunno what you're talking about.

    It's a watermelon that was dropped. It's split mostly in half with its seeds and juice on the floor around it.
    Well that's sort of aesthetic and symmetric. Maybe a lack of drama about you, a sense of beauty in chaos and a sense of wonder in nature.

    I remember that I forgot cake donuts and go to get those.
    That's a convenient way out. Always looking for a creative solution. Also what the hell are "cake donuts"? Whatever they are, you are clearly balls deep in North American culture.

    Sure you will.
    *doffs hat*

  3. #133
    Utisz's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by stuck View Post
    1) You are in a supermarket. You are pushing a trolley through it. You come upon the bread aisle. What is it like? Details, please.
    Well I don't know how I got here, or why I came on the bread aisle, but the encounter was surprisingly tender. The challah bread, with its supple curves, reminded me of a human lady. I regain my senses, look around, and make a hasty retreat.
    Casually name dropping challah bread? Maybe a throw-back to a childhood parked on the metre of a warm Jewish tradition? Or maybe you just Googled "curvy bread" (challah bread does rank well).

    In any case, we're young here and nourished to start. Eventually though the warmth becomes overbearing with one gradual thought. The challah takes on a new form. Nurture tells us soon we should put bread on the table. Nature whispers us the what-for.

    It takes some time before the young stuck will regain his senses again ... decades, even.

    2) You push your trolley further. You're in the dairy aisle. You pick up a bottle of milk. It goes off in four days. What do you do?
    On the side of a milk carton is a picture of myself as a young lad, apparently I'm missing? I smash the milk carton against the back of the head of an old man wheeling his scooter past and run off to find another place to "release a little more tension".
    Ah, but how innocence is cast aside here given the appropriate alibi!

    The old man, his scooter, and the motions both are going through: not sure if we're the old man here or if it's our old man or just some random old man we will never become. Eitherways you seem to assume he didn't see the milk carton coming.

    3) You push your trolley further. You want to buy Oreos. Someone is blocking them. Describe the person. What do you do?
    Oreos?! Good enough. I step over the corpse and grab the sweet, sweet oreos, crying as I stuff them into my mouth. I realize that I'm drooling froth on him/her. I steel my resolve, and power through the last few. As I allow myself to look down, I realize I have another erection. I also realize I'm paralyzed from the waist up.
    The rhetorical question of Oreos, the material response of gavage: there's the question of settling for Oreos, but also the other question of what the Oreos could have been under other circumstances.

    Probably not a stretch to say you could have applied your hand to a variety of things, besides that erection. Maybe that made it difficult for you to find a path initially. The archetypal late bloomer?

    4) You push your trolley further. A sale is announced on the intercom. What items are on sale? Will you buy these items?
    I slump to the ground as the sale items are announced... "gourds" "indian pudding" "fake beards" … some kind of pilgrim theme, I guess.
    Gourds?! Gourds!

    All I got here is the ceremonial connection to the challah bread ... tradition and all that?

    Vague vibes of commercial interests exploiting even the sanctity of indian pudding.

    At a stretch, fake beards might speak of a masculine insecurity? Would we have valued a fuller beard, maybe even the option of mutton chops?

    Anyways, back to crunching the numbers. You're coming across as beyond pecuniary here because it's not even shit you hate. You're an independent sort, wanting to share, create, all that good stuff. There's ambition at play.

    5) You push your trolley further. You reach the hygiene aisle. Something is spilt on the floor. Describe it in detail.
    I use my legs to plow my torso and head into the hygiene aisle. I don't know why I'm doing this, something sinister is compelling me. As I get a wet sensation on my head, I realize that I've navigated through a puddle of my own tears that have been recreated from my DNA.

    I begin to describe it in detail, somehow intoning through my paralyzed vocal chords

    "ATGGAGCCCA CCGCACCGTC CCTCACCGAG GAGGACCTCA CTGAAGTGAA GAAGGACGCC
    TTAGAAAATT TACGTGTATA CCTGTGTGAG AAAATCATAG CTGAGAGACA TTTTGATCAT
    CTACGTGCAA AAAAAATACT CAGTAGAGAA GACACTGAAG AAATTTCTTG TCGAACATCA
    AGTAGAAAAA GGGCTGGAAA ATTGTTAGAC TACTTACAGG AAAACCCAAA AGGTCTGGAC
    ACCCTTGTTG AATCTATTCG GCGAGAAAAA ACACAGAACT TCCTGATACA GAAGATTACA
    GATGAAGTGC TGAAACTTAG AAATATAAAA CTAGAACATC TGAAAGGACT AAAATGTAGC
    AGTTGTGAAC CTTTTCCAGA TGGAGCCACG AACAACCTCT CCAGATCAAA TTCAGATGAG
    AGTAATTTCT CTGAAAAACT GAGGGCATCC ACTGTCATGT ACCATCCAGA AGGAGAATCC
    AGCACGACGC CCTTTTTTTC TACTAATTCT TCTCTGAATT TGCCTGTTCT AGAAGTAGGC
    AGAACTGAAA ATACCATCTT CTCTTCAACT ACACTTCCCA GACCTGGGGA CCCAGGGGCT
    CCTCCTTTGC CACCAGATCT ACAGTTAGAA GAAGAAGGAA CTTGTGCAAA CTCTAGTGAG
    ATGTTTCTTC CCTTAAGATC ACGTACTGTT TCACGACAAT GA"

    before trailing off, choking on a plug of several oreo innards that had collected in my sinuses. In my haste to pack them into my face before having to look at that fucking stupid corpse with its stupid head, I'd jammed the cookies anywhere they'd fit.
    Ah, but now we have structure, meaning, purpose, code, determinism. "Man spreads seed", says code.

    There's a strong sense of reductionism here, like you'll strip it back and strip it back until you find something grounded, whatever "it" happens to be this time. But why does this structure come from our tears? Do we apply this reductionism to emotions all the time? It seems all too literal here though.

    What is fabricating this simulacrum of our emotion? Who do they benefit, these fake tears?

    Let's not read too much into it though. Maybe you just needed something wet in the fantasy because it was asked and thought that tears are wet and could hint at some vulnerability ... at least until we whip out the tablecloth and reveal the genetic long game.

    But there's still the meta-structure, the continuity: recalling the corpse, the Oreos, and so on ... maybe you're building a principled narrative here. Act 5, Scene 3: Chekov's Oreos. Recalling the paralysed vocal chords points to an attention to detail; it's important to you that the surrealism be disciplined.

    Ultimately the reductionism -- the simplification of purpose -- collapses while choking on a past indiscretion. Like we have a headstart on our past but ...

    6) You are at the back of a long checkout queue. A new queue opens right beside you. How do you react?
    I roll my eyes towards my feet and realize that the stupid corpse was actually in line the whole time! I think "I'm gonna die here too" and slowly give up.
    Kübler-Ross? Denial: sexualising the challah bread, retreating to a preferable reality. Anger: throwing the milk carton at old scooter guy. Bargaining: Oreos good enough. Depression: slumping to the ground, existential doubts, choking on past mistakes. Acceptance: no point ploughing head-first further, no point fighting it.

    Otherwise perhaps a growing-of-age story, from childhood to adolesence and self-consciousness, from adolescene to adulthood and episodic purpose, from adulthood to wisdom and death.

    Haha, probably not, I dunno. I gave it a go.



    Bullet points:

    • Seems like you associate pleasure with a cost, especially sexual pleasure? You're wary of pleasure. Like every time you get off you get paralyzed or choke or some shit or someone else gets drooled on or something. Not even once in your fantasy do you get like a high-five or something after getting off.
    • The corpse, the Oreos ... your past is always there lurking in the foreground ready to fuck your shit up. You seem to dwell on past mistakes a lot ... maybe like you don't want to be surprised, like you're walking looking backwards through the aisles and then come full-circle and halt.
    • The whole narrative is like an id-ego-superego version of rock-paper-scissors where rock shits on everything eventually. There's a lot of wariness/awareness of those baser instincts that you let take centre-stage, maybe for shits and giggles, or maybe because you don't take them lightly, but probably both.
    • Nostalgia: there's a lot of it! There's frequent references to tradition and culture that suggest a respect for provenance, or a tracing of things. It stops short of reverence but maybe veers closer to their textures, maybe a playfulness in how they could be used, repurposed, blended, bred.
    • It's a very independent, introspective, observer-like fantasy. You could have brought in other characters to use as you see fit but you didn't: you don't talk with anyone, the sales you barely even hear, the only other thing living in here (and for a short time) is the old man. It were as if it's not automatic to you how arbitrary others might add colour to the journey. You look (mostly) within and behind to draw on the colours and the textures you need. At least you are selective with your muses.
    • Structure, attention to detail, to continuity, to juxtaposition, to progression, to quiet, then loud. The fantasy has hints of a composition, a sort of narrative arc.
    • The DNA thing is very existential. WHY ARE WE HERE? and friends.
    • So yeah, you're mostly fucking around I guess.

  4. #134
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    Quote Originally Posted by Utisz View Post
    Probably not a stretch to say you could have applied your hand to a variety of things, besides that erection. Maybe that made it difficult for you to find a path initially. The archetypal late bloomer?
    LOL clever

    Quote Originally Posted by Utisz View Post
    But there's still the meta-structure, the continuity: recalling the corpse, the Oreos, and so on ... maybe you're building a principled narrative here. Act 5, Scene 3: Chekov's Oreos. Recalling the paralysed vocal chords points to an attention to detail; it's important to you that the surrealism be disciplined.
    Absolutely yes.

    Quote Originally Posted by Utisz View Post
    Kübler-Ross? Denial: sexualising the challah bread, retreating to a preferable reality. Anger: throwing the milk carton at old scooter guy. Bargaining: Oreos good enough. Depression: slumping to the ground, existential doubts, choking on past mistakes. Acceptance: no point ploughing head-first further, no point fighting it.

    Otherwise perhaps a growing-of-age story, from childhood to adolesence and self-consciousness, from adolescene to adulthood and episodic purpose, from adulthood to wisdom and death.
    Brilliant! God I love a synthetic system.

    Quote Originally Posted by Utisz View Post
    [*] Seems like you associate pleasure with a cost, especially sexual pleasure? You're wary of pleasure. Like every time you get off you get paralyzed or choke or some shit or someone else gets drooled on or something. Not even once in your fantasy do you get like a high-five or something after getting off.[*] The corpse, the Oreos ... your past is always there lurking in the foreground ready to fuck your shit up. You seem to dwell on past mistakes a lot ... maybe like you don't want to be surprised, like you're walking looking backwards through the aisles and then come full-circle and halt.
    Food is such a special case for me. I'd guess it makes me confront my id even when I'm trying to dick around with this kind of no-stakes creativity. It's the main vice in my life, and I have to watch out or it'll be the thing that kills me. By the time I saw oreos, which are a binge food by design, I had decided to wrap everything else in violent surrealism. Oreos to me are "disgusting but I'll eat a sleeve of them"

    Quote Originally Posted by Utisz View Post
    [*] The whole narrative is like an id-ego-superego version of rock-paper-scissors where rock shits on everything eventually. There's a lot of wariness/awareness of those baser instincts that you let take centre-stage, maybe for shits and giggles, or maybe because you don't take them lightly, but probably both.
    That's quite canny, I hadn't thought of it before. It's also cosmically tragic and hilarious to me that pain and pleasure are inextricable.

    Quote Originally Posted by Utisz View Post
    [*] Nostalgia: there's a lot of it! There's frequent references to tradition and culture that suggest a respect for provenance, or a tracing of things. It stops short of reverence but maybe veers closer to their textures, maybe a playfulness in how they could be used, repurposed, blended, bred.[*] It's a very independent, introspective, observer-like fantasy. You could have brought in other characters to use as you see fit but you didn't: you don't talk with anyone, the sales you barely even hear, the only other thing living in here (and for a short time) is the old man. It were as if it's not automatic to you how arbitrary others might add colour to the journey. You look (mostly) within and behind to draw on the colours and the textures you need. At least you are selective with your muses.
    Interesting, these are a surprise to me. I don't think of myself as nostalgic but it seems to be creeping in as I age.

    Quote Originally Posted by Utisz View Post
    [*] Structure, attention to detail, to continuity, to juxtaposition, to progression, to quiet, then loud. The fantasy has hints of a composition, a sort of narrative arc.[*] The DNA thing is very existential. WHY ARE WE HERE? and friends.[*] So yeah, you're mostly fucking around I guess.
    I mean yeah I was fucking around but I'm sure it's accurate in spite of myself. Like I definitely threw a boner in there because I knew it was a psychological test.

    Amazing analysis.

  5. #135
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    The fake beard, indian pudding, and gourd are related to Thanksgiving, which is related to gorging oneself, but all the items are a little off- fake version of a real pilgrim beard, indian pudding in a can, a gourd instead of a pumpkin. So it's probably related to how I feel about being in a supermarket at all, the handmade fertile challah bread is the last true touchstone with the natural world and then beyond that we are surrounded with the artificial.

  6. #136
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    lol

  7. #137
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    That's amazing! Did you paint that?
    painted by our very own @kali

  8. #138
    Tsundoku LordLatch's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by stuck View Post
    painted by our very own @kali
    Nice but she misspelled beard on the last line
    Stand clear of the closing doors, please.

  9. #139
    tsuj a notelpmis QuickTwist's Avatar
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    1) You are in a supermarket. You are pushing a trolley through it. You come upon the bread aisle. What is it like? Details, please.
    Smells like bread. I don't really like bread much and kinda hate the smell of it unless it's toast.
    2) You push your trolley further. You're in the dairy aisle. You pick up a bottle of milk. It goes off in four days. What do you do?
    Get a smaller bottle of milk.
    3) You push your trolley further. You want to buy Oreos. Someone is blocking them. Describe the person. What do you do?
    Some old crazy lady in one of those scooter things. I walk away, kinda disgusted.
    4) You push your trolley further. A sale is announced on the intercom. What items are on sale? Will you buy these items?
    They never announce sales over the intercom where I am from. Otherwise, listen intently on if anything I would already buy is on sale, probably not so I am getting my hopes up for nothing.
    5) You push your trolley further. You reach the hygiene aisle. Something is spilt on the floor. Describe it in detail.
    Just a bunch of boxes that the overnight stock guy wasn't done with yet.
    6) You are at the back of a long checkout queue. A new queue opens right beside you. How do you react?
    Subtlely move over to the other lane before anyone else catches on.
    But your individuality and your present need will be swept away by change,
    and what you now ardently desire will one day become the object of abhorrence.
    ~ Schiller - 'Psychological Types'

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