Ends And Odds+ GITEX aka A Very Special Episode, Day Seven Of Seven.
By now, I guess most of you have realised that that I put quite literally, no thought into these posts. Despite this painstaking attention to carelessness, occasionally a few things left undone, and such is it with my last couple of posts. To wit:
Re: crabby birthday blues: suffering from bouts of OCD and depression. And I don't use the word 'suffering' as lightly as do some expats; this isn't a disease or an illness where you either conk or one day, the clouds magically part in your hospital window and all is well. This is your own mind methodically constructing a prison using jagged shards of memory and paranoia as cement.
The last day of GITEX, was an absolute, unmitigated tsunami of customers. What I thought were heavy crowds on every day prior, equated to the toilet line on Friday. Jesus, Mary and That Other stoner-looking Dude from Arramatiah, that was some lineup. The aisles became a mosh pit. Conversely, we had so many extra staff on the inside of the stall that I was forced on the out, trying to grab the attention of stray passerbys.
Bottom line, we had really good sales. And then - nothing. Everybody vanished. But no matter, for that brief, halcyon moment, we had sales so tremendous it almost made the shitty thing worthwhile.
After the blitz subsided, I toured the stalls to see if there were any of those famous last minute deals. You betcha. Eager to avoid carting stock to showrooms, many dealers were chopping hundreds off their margin to raise cash. One even went so far as to stage a mock auction for notebooks, although one suspects they had quite a few ringers in the crowd to make sure they didnt lose too much - if at all.
In the central spot between the halls, one bunch was still persisting with 'karaoke' (make air quotes please, that was not singing) while the other hall, filled with teenage salespeople, had become Bluetooth Date Central.
What of God? I don't know - halfway through the evening, she disappeared, never to return. I had found my courage, too late. No matter. I've seen that face for nearly a decade, and I'm pretty sure I'll see it again. But what I have learnt from the whole debacle is that I'm still not anywhere near ready for a relationship with a real, three dimensional human being. A lot of that is maybe because I try to out think women, to predict their next move. to treat their emotions like revs on a tacho, that start in one place and proceed up to a fix. But that ain't how women are, and I need to start to ascribing to them the complexity with which I purport to credit myself.
PS: I had originally planned to publish a gallery of photographs I took during the exhibition, detailing many of the absurdities which accompany something as gonzo as GITEX. After much thought, I decided against it - there are people in those images who were neither aware they were being photographed, nor would they have been likely to consent to such a recording. So, so much for that.
Re: crabby birthday blues: suffering from bouts of OCD and depression. And I don't use the word 'suffering' as lightly as do some expats; this isn't a disease or an illness where you either conk or one day, the clouds magically part in your hospital window and all is well. This is your own mind methodically constructing a prison using jagged shards of memory and paranoia as cement.
The last day of GITEX, was an absolute, unmitigated tsunami of customers. What I thought were heavy crowds on every day prior, equated to the toilet line on Friday. Jesus, Mary and That Other stoner-looking Dude from Arramatiah, that was some lineup. The aisles became a mosh pit. Conversely, we had so many extra staff on the inside of the stall that I was forced on the out, trying to grab the attention of stray passerbys.
Bottom line, we had really good sales. And then - nothing. Everybody vanished. But no matter, for that brief, halcyon moment, we had sales so tremendous it almost made the shitty thing worthwhile.
After the blitz subsided, I toured the stalls to see if there were any of those famous last minute deals. You betcha. Eager to avoid carting stock to showrooms, many dealers were chopping hundreds off their margin to raise cash. One even went so far as to stage a mock auction for notebooks, although one suspects they had quite a few ringers in the crowd to make sure they didnt lose too much - if at all.
In the central spot between the halls, one bunch was still persisting with 'karaoke' (make air quotes please, that was not singing) while the other hall, filled with teenage salespeople, had become Bluetooth Date Central.
What of God? I don't know - halfway through the evening, she disappeared, never to return. I had found my courage, too late. No matter. I've seen that face for nearly a decade, and I'm pretty sure I'll see it again. But what I have learnt from the whole debacle is that I'm still not anywhere near ready for a relationship with a real, three dimensional human being. A lot of that is maybe because I try to out think women, to predict their next move. to treat their emotions like revs on a tacho, that start in one place and proceed up to a fix. But that ain't how women are, and I need to start to ascribing to them the complexity with which I purport to credit myself.
PS: I had originally planned to publish a gallery of photographs I took during the exhibition, detailing many of the absurdities which accompany something as gonzo as GITEX. After much thought, I decided against it - there are people in those images who were neither aware they were being photographed, nor would they have been likely to consent to such a recording. So, so much for that.
posted by marwan | 2:10 PM
1 Comments:
funny ..
what happened to u after these postings?
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