The young man at the counter there said, "you're in here quite a bit, sir. Mind if I ask you your name?"
For some reason, I told him my name was Erasmus. What an odd thing to do. I guess I didn't want him to know my real name.
Have you ever read, or heard, someone explain the idea that the word, "dog", isn't a dog, it is only a word that represents the idea of a dog? The word "dog" isn't actually a physical dog. The word "tree" isn't actually a physical tree. No matter what, they are still just words.
I felt kind of bad about telling the man that my name is Erasmus, and then I thought, hey I'm just as much an Erasmus as I am a Curt, in certain senses. "Curt" is just a word, right? Not really my essence. If I told enough people I was Erasmus, wouldn't I be more Erasmus than Curt? Maybe escaping my Curt existence through such semantic shenanigans is a valuable exercise. Maybe every time I go to the corner store to buy a Pepsi, I can make a transformation into Erasmus Jimenez--whoever he may be. Maybe I'll develop him as a whole separate entity, let Erasmus Jimenez be somebody totally different, a man who represents my dark side, or maybe the opposite. Heck, maybe I'll start a fictional blog and write it from the perspective of Erasmus Jimenez! I've heard that there is such a thing as "blog fiction". Why not hop on that train?
What would be a good name for that blog?
I bet Erasmus Jimenez builds model airplanes. And eats lots of hot pockets!
Before I started delivering papers, I had a job as a clerk at a gas station for a little while.
One morning, I was working with another cashier, and our manager told us he would give twenty dollars to whoever could get more names from customers.
I got one name.
I got one name.
The other guy got like thirty.
I had just gotten out of prison. I felt like a creep.
"Hi, my name is Curt, and I'm a middle-aged convicted felon! What's your name???"
Who wants to be that guy?
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