Sunday, July 13, 2003
Days and weeks pass and the obssession grows even more. The merchandise has crawled its way up to the towering pedestal of your mind and the only way shut the voices up is to buy it. There are only two possible outcomes if and when you have succeeded in coming up with the moolah: First, when you come back to buy it, you'll find the hazy glow around it still intact. The heavenly choir changes its tune to a song of victory as you march towards the cashier with a twinkle in your eyes and a stupid grin on your face. After a few days the accumulating dust obscures the glow of your prize, the heavenly voices have stopped singing the moment the cashier rang up a sale and you're now moving on to a new obsession. Second scenario, you come back to buy it and you're shocked, dismayed, and frustrated to find the mystery surrounding it is gone. It's tarnished. It's nothing. Pffft! Kapoot. By this time the ideal image in your mind has already eclipsed the real thing. And do you know why? Elementary, my dear Watson, it's all part of the game, a sport appealing to our base selves. A game called acquisition.