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I was sitting in the parking lot at Walmart, watching fat women and squalling brats walk by. As depressed as I was, I realized that, in an odd way, perhaps I am more fortunate than others in the fact that I never managed to hook a fat woman, or have squalling brats. Was it for me, any of it? The pale, slovenly, potato-shaped men with their faded tattoos, receding hairlines (not that I'm any great specimen, no, not what I am saying) frayed, sagging jeans, dogged shoes, escorted by women with drooping breasts, bad teeth, faded tattoos, and on and on. A perfect pathway laid out, shaped by contemporary society, from cradle through to grave, borne on a skiff of predictable "points on a map" labeled "contemporary": the vacations, the church services, Sunday dinners, graduations, weddings, funerals. And the "education" of television to fill in the missing pieces, to make the yearned-for daydreams of impossible romance and satisfaction seem that much more real. I'm not condemning it: for most, it is their reality, the lenses or blinders they've adapted to, foisted on them by media bosses, economic overlords of debt, chat shows, lying politicians, corporate pundits and media shills. But, as I sat there, it all seemed so ugly, so empty. As old as I am, and apparently adrift, I still FEEL, instinctively, deep down in my soul, that there must be something else; and, as harsh as things seem sometime, for me from a personal perspective, I still feel as if the alternative never really was for me. And I'm not sure what or where I am finally headed, but I know it is somewhere other than where I currently am, and nowhere near the people crossing a Walmart parking lot on Monday afternoon. . designer collections for wedding in short