The Mill, A Journey, and Some Reflections on the Apocalypse...
Almost exactly a month to the day, and I'm back at Mill Mountain...
And check this out:
I decided to get hair cut while I was here, so I asked around as to whether there was a barber shop within walking distance. And of course there is, so I get directions and then begin my expedition down Main Street, downtown Salem.
The street is small, lined with shops and cars, and easily crossable at any point, which I have to do in order to get to the barber shop. By the way, it is just off Main Street, a block down on College, if you ever need to know.
I turn the corner, from Main Street onto College, and I see the shop immediately. It has one of those swirling, multi-flavored, candy cane looking things hanging from the door.
When I walk in the door, it occurs to me that I better ask, "Are you guys cash only?" Of course they are! He says, "What?! Debit card? What the hell is that? Jesus told us to forgive our debts, not our debits." (I swear that's what the guy said to me)(Okay, not really, but I would have died if he had)
I smile, because, what the hell, cash only, and that is unassailable cool. Uncool is the fact that I don't have any cash, because I live a cash-less life, tied to my debit card for all financial transactions. This is my way of hurrying on the apocalypse, and the return of our Lord Jesus Christ. Because if my card number is the mark of the beast, as I am sure it is in some crazy-ass mathematical equation (involving imaginary numbers and fractions, no doubt) then sometimes, when I hold my card very, very tightly, then the numbers get imprinted on my palm. And then there it is, right there on my palm, the mark of the beast! It fades in time, however, and also it doesn't work if you are wearing gloves. The Bible doesn't warn you about that, or, I guess, expect that you would want to hurry such an event by giving in to the darkside.
In any case, I have to walk back to the bank, which conveniently sits at the corner of Main and College, but, inconveniently, does not have an ATM. A bank -- the main branch of Salem International Bank -- and they don't have an ATM! I walk in, the girl behind the counter says, "Hello, may I help you?" I say, "Do you have an ATM around here?" And she says, "No, we don't." Just like that -- no ATM -- how the hell cool is that? It's a bank!
Turns out the closest one is a couple blocks down the road, and so I walk down the street, toward the mountains, past a church, pay the fee, get my money, and back to the barber shop, where I have to wait in line behind four other guys. I do that, wait, and read the newspaper, the Roanoke Times, or whatever, and learn about local Christmas lights, and the impact of saying Happy Holidays instead of Merry Christmas. Also, Ethan Hawke is trying to get a woman out of prison in New Jersey who shot her boyfriend-cop, and who happens to be an old friend of his mother's. That's nice, and a great Christmas gift: "Here you go mom, my gift to you this Christmas. You better unwrap it soon, though, because I'm not sure I put holes in the box..." Only in the Roanoke Times (I know this because I read both the Washington Post and the New York Times back at Mill Mountain, how cool is that?).
Now, with my hairs cut (yes all of them, ha ha), I have returned to Mill Mountain, and sit at my table writing this blog. The day here today has been like all the other days I have spent here, including weird conversations, over-caffeinated children, and a grilled cheese sandwich with a tomato. Except today it's a little warm in here.
But now, with a five dollar bill in my pocket, I rest assured that if the Apocalypse were to happen today, a sign of which is the advent of the cash-less society, that at least this part of the Roanoke Valley -- Salem, Virginia -- would be spared the wrath of God, and there would be a place where I'd still be able to get a good cup of coffee, and read the paper, and think deeply about life, even when the dark and sinster evil that is the Anti-Christ rules over the entire world.
And that is a good to know.
And check this out:
I decided to get hair cut while I was here, so I asked around as to whether there was a barber shop within walking distance. And of course there is, so I get directions and then begin my expedition down Main Street, downtown Salem.
The street is small, lined with shops and cars, and easily crossable at any point, which I have to do in order to get to the barber shop. By the way, it is just off Main Street, a block down on College, if you ever need to know.
I turn the corner, from Main Street onto College, and I see the shop immediately. It has one of those swirling, multi-flavored, candy cane looking things hanging from the door.
When I walk in the door, it occurs to me that I better ask, "Are you guys cash only?" Of course they are! He says, "What?! Debit card? What the hell is that? Jesus told us to forgive our debts, not our debits." (I swear that's what the guy said to me)(Okay, not really, but I would have died if he had)
I smile, because, what the hell, cash only, and that is unassailable cool. Uncool is the fact that I don't have any cash, because I live a cash-less life, tied to my debit card for all financial transactions. This is my way of hurrying on the apocalypse, and the return of our Lord Jesus Christ. Because if my card number is the mark of the beast, as I am sure it is in some crazy-ass mathematical equation (involving imaginary numbers and fractions, no doubt) then sometimes, when I hold my card very, very tightly, then the numbers get imprinted on my palm. And then there it is, right there on my palm, the mark of the beast! It fades in time, however, and also it doesn't work if you are wearing gloves. The Bible doesn't warn you about that, or, I guess, expect that you would want to hurry such an event by giving in to the darkside.
In any case, I have to walk back to the bank, which conveniently sits at the corner of Main and College, but, inconveniently, does not have an ATM. A bank -- the main branch of Salem International Bank -- and they don't have an ATM! I walk in, the girl behind the counter says, "Hello, may I help you?" I say, "Do you have an ATM around here?" And she says, "No, we don't." Just like that -- no ATM -- how the hell cool is that? It's a bank!
Turns out the closest one is a couple blocks down the road, and so I walk down the street, toward the mountains, past a church, pay the fee, get my money, and back to the barber shop, where I have to wait in line behind four other guys. I do that, wait, and read the newspaper, the Roanoke Times, or whatever, and learn about local Christmas lights, and the impact of saying Happy Holidays instead of Merry Christmas. Also, Ethan Hawke is trying to get a woman out of prison in New Jersey who shot her boyfriend-cop, and who happens to be an old friend of his mother's. That's nice, and a great Christmas gift: "Here you go mom, my gift to you this Christmas. You better unwrap it soon, though, because I'm not sure I put holes in the box..." Only in the Roanoke Times (I know this because I read both the Washington Post and the New York Times back at Mill Mountain, how cool is that?).
Now, with my hairs cut (yes all of them, ha ha), I have returned to Mill Mountain, and sit at my table writing this blog. The day here today has been like all the other days I have spent here, including weird conversations, over-caffeinated children, and a grilled cheese sandwich with a tomato. Except today it's a little warm in here.
But now, with a five dollar bill in my pocket, I rest assured that if the Apocalypse were to happen today, a sign of which is the advent of the cash-less society, that at least this part of the Roanoke Valley -- Salem, Virginia -- would be spared the wrath of God, and there would be a place where I'd still be able to get a good cup of coffee, and read the paper, and think deeply about life, even when the dark and sinster evil that is the Anti-Christ rules over the entire world.
And that is a good to know.
posted by twodollarshoe at 2:19 PM
1 Comments:
dude, enable comment verification.
also, i really do believe that if and when the apocalypse happens, Roanoke will be the absolute last place that its effects are felt. the mountains fend off much more than weather, you know.
Post a Comment
<< Home