It's A PlanJournal of Microliterature 2011
I don’t own a cell phone, beeper or blackberry. I'm not one to carry a bottle of water with me when I walk from my car to the store or keep one at my desk while at work. I don’t spike my hair with gel, have a Mohawk, shave my head bald or favor the "bed head" look. I don’t have tattoos, piercings or marks on my body other than those I was born with.
I like my drinks but I feel no need to stick a piece of citrus in my beer bottle or order the high priced vodka de jour. If I’m craving a martini I’ll order one the way it was meant to be made—with an olive or two but not with espresso, pomegranate or gold flakes floating around.
While driving I listen to the AM station of oldies. I don’t have FM, satellite radio nor a DVD or CD player in my car. My car's for transportation, not entertainment. And speaking of my car, I don’t need a moon roof, a plethora of cup holders or three rows of seats. And speaking of seats—I don’t need ones that massage my back or heat my butt either.
I live in a condo in a suburb of New Haven. I bought the furnished model and took possession when the others were all sold. I have left it the way the decorator furnished it except I replaced the cardboard TV with a real one.
I’m also quite lonely. I go out occasionally but rarely get a second date. It seems that woman don’t want my kind of rebel so next week I’m planning to buy an Ipod and a water bottle and join a gym. I think that should turn my life around. If not, I can start adding the other pieces one at a time until I find a soul mate.
Then, if that doesn’t work, I’ll order a mail order bride—either Russian or Chinese. I have all the paperwork made out, but it’s a last resort that I probably won’t need now that I have a plan.