carrie says i should write about the corner store. let me tell you about the corner store: the co-op. i frequent the co-op at odd hours; it is my own personal oh-shit store: oh shit, we're out of...milk. bread. tomato soup. yummy chocolate/caramel biscuits. goodfellas pizza-for-one.
there is a security guard outside the co-op (like most businesses) in the evening, and he has kind eyes. he looks like a sailor, with his navy blue turtle neck--thick and woolen--and pipe and hemingway beard. we're now on nodding and smiling terms when i walk in the door. sometimes i say hi, and he gives me the what-the-hell-is-an-american-doing-in-east-belfast-especially-at-this-time-of-day-and-in-that-outfit look. i shrug, usually, giving him the i'm-just-getting-milk look.
once inside the co-op, you're in for a party. two aisles of great deals on various canned things. and fantastically bad music while you choose between heinz or campbells tomato soup. it's the only place i've heard the R group, SWV (sistas with voices) since 1993, when dad drove mom and me down to florida in the ford festiva with no air conditioning. i bought the tape then, specifically for the song "right here" (which was also featured in the movie, free willy). SWV and janet jackson's wildly popular janet were my soundtracks for that trip.
memories of busch gardens and the gulf of mexico, palm trees for the first time and bad hair all come racing back hilariously as i buy some wheaten bread and diet coke.
right here. be right here. no fear. lovin' is here.
great lyrics, eh?
so. that's the co-op.
don't get me started on the chip-shop.