Over twenty years ago, late spring of 1990 to be exact, I was on Sunset Blvd. buying hipster shoes when I got into a conversation with the saleslady about the band The Cocteau Twins. She said the last song on their 1988 Blue Bell Knoll album was beautiful but depressing and it tormented her to listen to it. I walked out of the store thinking I must possess some rarified charisma to tease out people’s darkest secrets and innermost thoughts. The glories that awaited a man of my exceptional magnetism were no doubt too much to even imagine.
However, since that day not once has a salesperson conversed about anything but predictable banalities. The incident was a fluke and my “charisma” proved to be a dud.
Yet I slog on disillusioned and wiser.
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