My Amazing Conversion

Simplicity. That's right. It's the new black I heard. I mean why NOT become a Shaker? Shaker's don't deal with the shit most of us deal with: the rankness of old, overflowing ash trays (to the point where you can't read the name of the Parisian restaurant from whence 'twas pinced), they don't deal with crap under their beds that accumulates over the length of term. Shakers, if they indulge in the occasional diet Coke, they probably make some swift and deliberate action to throw it away, or make the can into something else, BEFORE it is joined by a family of like creatures over the course of a week. Shaker's don't have very many clothes, cause the white linen bonnet/overalls look just never get old, and they get enough excersise going down to the river to wash them, so that they don't have to hate themselves for not going to the gym. For Shakers, every thing, from sweeping to carving chairs and making ladders has gotta be as simple as it is exquisite, so I have to say I'm hooked. But the question is do they have any fun. The very idea of having to dismantle and pack up my entire court here into a few plastic receptacles from Boswells, and put it all in the damp caverns beneath my college for the next six weeks is uh...daunting? Fuck. And what about the shoes? The count is now 11 pairs here, none of which I really want to subject to neither the dampness of the Somerville underworld, nor the Boston salt that has cut down so many in their prime. What to do? If I were a Shaker, I wouldn't have to deal with all this crap, and could glide into duty free at Heathrow in four days for some leisurely pre-flight shopping. Then again, if I were a Shaker, I wouldn't have my wallet, or want to buy anything. Unless Pink does anything that looks good next to a pitchfork. I really do love flying out of Heathrow though. There's that one rasty pub that does like pints for three quid, but it's just worth the experience of going there cause you can smoke and meet other people going other places. It's like an anomalous (sp? (is that even a word?)) place in space that shouldn't technically exist, and the people who meet - well there conversations shouldn't even ever have happened. Cause airports aren't real places. Fuck. That's deep. Nobody steal that. I'm so much better than Calvino. I have to go.