Stephen King, Fanatics and School Plays

A couple of days ago I purchased a ticket to watch Stephen King read from his new book and hopefully get my copy of the original Gunslinger signed. I got off work at five thirty on Tuesday and embarked on the fairly simple yet grossly unresearched (on my part) journey from Bond Street Station to Battersea Park events arena. The London A to Z ( I pronounce it "zee" as opposed to "zed" which seems to piss people here off, aka more fun for me) literally saved me about an hours worth of aimless wandering. That and the Indian girl nice enough to tell me which street I was on when I asked her for directions. She was handing out free newspapers. They do that a lot here. Newspapers like the London Metro and London Lite are free and they have people out in the streets purposefully handing them to you. It is really heartwarming, but one has to worry about possibly biased opinions reaching the masses for free. The papers are well recieved nonetheless.
A train, a bus, some walking and a phonecall to the Battersea Park police people for directions later I had made it. There seemed to be a decent number of people walking in. One guy asked me if I wanted his date's ticket. He had been stood up. I apologised over-empathetically and felt bad about highlighting his situation later but oh well. I picked up my ticket and that's when the bad news started flowing in. First Stephen King was only signing copies of Lisey's story. Second, my 15 pound ticket did not include a book or anything, not even food, which was too much to expect I guess. And third, my seat was in the very back.
But once things got rolling it was all good. The guy next to me was a Greek marine engineer who is writing a science fiction novel. His name is Dimitri and he is truly awesome, an all round good guy. He smokes a pipe, has worked on a ship for eight months and, well... just take my word for it, he's cool. Stephen King was funny and all, joking about politics etc. Once he was done reading from his book and answering questions... well actually half way through his answering questions a huge mass of people queued up to get their books signed. Stephen King was only signing books for an hour. There were about 1000 people in that arena. So the assholes who were shrewd enough to get in line despite disrespectuflly causing a rucus while Stephen King was on stage, talking, were the ones that got their books signed. That's life for you. Losers dressed as Carrie were weeping like babies. Boo fucking Hoo.
On our way out Dimitri and I stopped by the Waterstones stall to ask if I could return my book. While talking with the smug guys on the other side of the cash register this bony, bald jester-like guy walks upto us. He's got the nose, the earring... everything... except he's wearing a Waterstones T-Shirt. So this gentleman, whom I shall call the Jester of Justice, walks upto us and hands us signed stickers. He gave both Dimitri and I stickers signed by the Talespinner himself. Now I know this might not sound like much, hell I probably won't get anything for my sticker on Ebay, but that's not the point. The point is, the evening wasn't a waste. The wheel of Ka had turned. And my 15 pounds bought me this story.
Work today was no less exciting. I hardly had any till time and the short hour I was at the till I was visited by none other than whom I shall refer to as Paranoid Mental Shithead, or PMS for short. Mr. PMS had ordered a book, and I had placed the order for him, about a month ago. I infromed him the book will take upto 2 months to come in, being out of print and all, and that WE would call HIM when the book is in, but this guy... this guy... sigh. First he thinks the GOVERNMENT, yes the GOVERNMENT (That's how PMS says it, not me) is keeping track of everybody that reads this book through mind control. He warned me about it when he placed the order. Hell, he's warned everyone he's re-placed the order for the book with. Warned just us how this book exposes the GOVERNMENT and all it's CONSPIRACIES of MIND CONTROL. Sigh. Mind you, the first two times it was just us. Today however, while I'm on the phone with the publisher trying to see where the book is, today Mr. fucking PMS decides to tell THE WHOLE STORE the GOVERNMENT is out to get them. They are being MIND CONTROLLED and blah blah blah. I stopped listening after a point. I had to ask him to keep his tone down. That's when he looked at me, empathetically. That shared glimpse of empathy is why I am sitting here, writing about this, when I could be sleeping. I saw in that man's eye, something I haven't seen in a while. I saw a man drowning in his own version of reality, while trying to claw his way out. Drowning in a well with smooth porcelean sides. A well brimming with vitreous humour, drowning in his own glistening eyeball. This guy was messed up, yet cogent enough to remember my name and that I had placed his order a month ago. This guy was as sane as anyone that has walked into that store, the only difference being how seriously he took his own lies. His own convictions. He was just a guy that took himself too seriously.
Yep, so that's that. Oh I also sat trough a friend's rehersal for a Diwali play or something she's putting together. It reminds me of whatever the Dude's landlord was performing in the Big Lebowski... it's really abstract. But as long as everyone believes what they want to believe, I guess it's all good.
Yep, it's all good.