more writings

More writings from the weekend: Hentai and Buffalo Chicken wings and search for weapons.

My version of the search for weapons...

There was a vendor at the PMX convention we did a demo at who was selling swords and other weapons. He had a fan, one of those heavy ones with steel ribs for a good price. I've been looking for one for some time. I watched him explain to Sister Mary the "proper" use of the sais. He was not really winning me over. But I thought I'd check out the fan nonetheless. He took the black demo one off the shelf and showed how he could flip it in and out and then tried this other trick which didn't work, but he said he could do, before he handed it to me.

I tried flipping it open, but it flew out of my hands and I manage to catch it with the other, after which he promptly took the weapon back. I don't think his fan liked it. It wasn't meant to be. At the same time the guy's "salemanship" left me ill: loud, brashy, and condescending. The kind that makes me want me to ask him if he wants to step outside so I could show him how to really use a weapon. In the end, I just decided to take my money elsewhere. The busines itself seemed to be that of the woman that was there with him. I wondered if he was just tagging along, or if she knew that he was chasing customers off.

Weapons like everything else we touch picks up a bit of our energy, our resonance. We give these things life, the way we do with very personal or sentimental items. Something about this guys energy that repels, not a very becoming trait for a salesman, and it stained the weapons he sold.