I’ve been reading Infinite Jest on and off for about a month.

I just started from the beginning yesterday, pen in hand in an effort to give it a real go.

It took Dave Eggars a month, so if it takes me two months, it’s ok.

Contribute to next week’s theme: Getting There: Transportation and You

I want stories about walking it out…Dylan covers about trains…videos about sailors

E-mail them to fountblog@gmail.com

by Thursday the 6th @ Midnight.

Welcome to Edtion 10 of Fount! Please enjoy the below contributions on this week’s theme:

What do you want to be when you grow up?

Please contribute to next week’s theme:

You are what you like:

Fount wants to know what you’re reading/listening to/watching.

Send Contributions to Fountblog@gmail.com

By midnight on Thursday the 26th.

Tell your friends!

And now I kindly present my future plans…

                                                                   or not.

  Having graduated in the top fifth percent of my high school class and with a large number of executive positions on impressive school committees, I was certain that I was setting myself up for post-high school success. My lofty ambitions led me to a small, yet respectively expensive and tastefully decorated liberal arts school on the outskirts of a local, thriving metropolis. My daily schedule included impressive sounding classes, such as Neo-Modern Art in Post-Pre-Agricultural Chile and International Fiberfill Markets in Terms of Twentieth Century Imperialism as well as basic courses like Acting 101 and Photography: How the Heck Do I Do This?

            Listen not to those who say that an arts education will leave you with no marketable skills. In the time following my graduation, I held many positions. For a full six months I served as an under-appreciated secretary and practiced the virtues of self-restraint by answering calls from the general public. The following three months saw me as a friendly and hygienic waitress at an upper class coffeehouse. I learned many valuable lessons from this period in my life, including the value of hard work ($135 on a weeknight!) and that, when I do not have the heart to tell someone that their art installment is a talentless waste of paper-mache and old car parts, I can simply refer to it as “avant-garde.” I have also worked as a chirpy retail slave, back alley hairdresser, and an anachronistically dressed tour guide. The latter occupation taught me never to take for granted the privilege of wearing light clothing during the warmer months. Despite being full of worldly wisdom and experience, I believed that there was something better out there for me, a happy-go-lucky lady with a highly financed degree in the arts.

            In 2007, since my professional and personal life was not as I had planned, I picked up my things and decided to see what options awaited me in the fabled lands of Europe. After arriving in England, I quickly eroded my savings account by purchasing the great British essentials, which consisted mostly of tea. Within a few months, I could barely afford a one-way ride on a double-decker bus. The time had come for me to metaphorically sink or swim. I appealed to the kinder senses of two aging doll makers and found myself with a roof over my head and a table of meat pies for dinner. Horrible and tasteless as it sounds, I was lucky to awake from my slumber one night to find my old “aunties” being led away by a uniformed officer. On the table was a note reading, “Out of town for a spell. Please watch shoppe.” I did. I looked over that shop and due my marketing savvy and clever packaging ideas, I was able to move into a quiet London suburb after becoming the head of a small chain of highly reputable toy stores.

            Having attained financial security, I have spent the last year lolling around the English countryside, indulging in my newly found passion: creating incredibly convincing crop circle hoaxes in remote fields. This peaceful, victimless hobby requires only a large board, a length of rope, geometrical skills culled from high school, and enough adrenaline to run from any guard dogs that might be encountered. I am now more relaxed, and physically fit, than I have been at any other point in my life.

            My agricultural artwork has been featured on many television programs, coffee table books, including the award winning Hoaxes: Some People Will Believe Anything, and distinguished magazines like Take Me to Your Weeder: A Bimonthly Gardening Periodical.

I want to be a lead guitarist funky tea shop owner. I want to tell you
about the rich smell of this tea and how a monkey picked that tea. I
want it to smell so good you want to take your pants off right when
you walk into the bright citrus room. I want squishy cushions for
everyone to sit on. I want to encourage everyone to bring a salad bowl
or spoons to make music with and then you get free desert if you eat
with them. I want to employ my friends who are artists to hang up
their art to sell. I want to invite my friends to cook on special
nights. I want it to be a collective shop of amazing potential. I want
the Back room to be cleared for yoga and meditation. I want it to have
a thousand different teas and natural healing remedies. On some things
it will be a pay what you can/ barter system.  By this time I will be
a professional belly dancer and whirling dervish. I will be a happy
prankster who makes a communitea out of a community. There will be
Vegan/Vegetarian options, with our exclusive honeyberry kombucha brew.
Discounts for community groups and non-profits. Gawsh…I am getting
excited about my grassroots tea shop.  Does anyone want to be my
business partner?

Please excuse my lateness. I ask for forgiveness and for something else…

<3     Will you be my Ballantine?     <3

Contribute to next week’s edition: What I Want to Be When I Grow Up

What’s your dream job? There are no practical limitations.

Contributions are due Thursday the 19th @ Midnight.

E-Mail them to fountblog@gmail.com