September 20, 2004

Why aren't I more successful? This question tortures a good friend of mine who has been through more self-help routines than you can shake your dick at while his formidable coding skills have been wasted on a series of failed start-ups.
      In my own case, the question is easy to answer: I don't achieve bigger things because it is the smallest things that bring the most pleasure. Like these pajamas. I got them at this place called Higo, the only Japanese-owned business in Seattle that survived Roosevelt's internment camps. In its last years, it was run by a couple of sweet old ladies who never seemed to ever get any new stock in the place. There was clothing in the window the sun had many years before bleached white, while inside you could buy for a pittance dusty postcards from the sixties, ancient teacups, and tin toys of the sort you might see in a museum. When the place finally closed a few months ago, there was a clearance sale at which I picked up these decades-old PJs.
      And who needs success when you have, still in the original package, Vietnam War-era polyester pajamas called "Men's Golden Supreme"?