The man was wearing a suit and tie, like perhaps he had been dressed for work. Maybe he'd gone to an opera. Under his Fedora, his white hair seemed to clash with his brown skin, yet I found it hard to imagine him as a young man. He gestured with his cane towards anyone he was talking with.
I forget the girl's name. She told me we'd met before, but I still forget her name, unless her name really is Betsey.
When she smiled, she crinkled up her nose. She looked like her hair was its natural color. She seemed like someone I would've copied homework off of in high school.
I was actually talking to her. My ridiculously strong drinks had gone to my head, and I was having a conversation.
When I couldn't hear what she was saying, I just nodded. Words having to travel through the cigarette smoke and din sometimes don't make it.
The old man introduced himself to us, and then pointed his cane at her. "You look like a Betsey," he declared.
"I am a Betsey!," she exclaimed in response.
"Really?" he said, surprised as well. "I went to elementary school with a girl named Betsey Robinson. Yes sir, Betsey Robinson."
I was looking blankly at him. His eyes scanned my face for a reaction but he saw none.
"Betsey was a nose picker from way back!" He shouted. He shook his cane and laughed to himself.
Finally I spoke up. "Nose picking's pretty awesome," I said.
He pulled back in shock, as though I'd just given him life changing news.
"You're enchanting!" he declared. His breath smelled like Lysol. Lysol. What the hell was he drinking?
"Yep I pick my nose! Well I used to... now my finger got too wide I can't fit it up in there!" He held his hand out as he said this, examining his pinky, and then bringing it up to poke at his nostril. "Well I can kinda..." he was trailing off as Betsey yelled in disgust.
"I shook your hand!" she cringed, but she was laughing.
I asked the man if he lived around here, and he shook his head 'no.' I didn't really feel like making any further conversation, so I figured he must have been to the opera house.
"What would you like to drink, honey?" he said to me. I figured I deserved a payoff for touching a nose picking hand, and whiffing Lysol breath. He headed over to the bar to fetch me a vodka tonic.
Another vague acquaintance came up from behind me. "I see you got stuck talking to Maurice," she said with a smirk.
"Does he come here often?" I asked. "I thought he wasn't from around here."
"Naw, he's in here every day."
"Is he really going to ever get me a drink?" I asked.
"Hell no."
I looked down the bar and he was smiling and talking animatedly to the coke dealer. I got up and headed out back, where some squat, middle aged, hard-lived woman was doing contortions and karate chops.
its been awhile. i live in philly now, whoever wants to come visit or send me an email - please feel free to do so. i have a vengeful ex-girlfriend, an underpaying job and not enough clothes to get me thought the week without the over the shoulder "look what that shit that fuck is wearing" eyes.
not that it matters . . .
i heard that the DIRTFARM is gonna be no more. this sickens me as well as make me happy to lay those peanut butter, sandy, soda and trampoleen, and beer garden, sonny, horror movie, carla, period blood, brad deason, and the mirror i stole from the garage at my old work - to rest. i had multiple excellent times there. A LOT of firsts were concived there, as well as the angele and paul love child.
the first time i was ever there was probably 1999, when i was all hung up about a place to live . . .
i dont know where i am going with this . . . .
fuck that josh, dont move to baltimore, if you are gonna switch cities, just come the hour and ahalf further and live in philly! its so much more industriales and has more to offer in the ways of cheep rent and songs . . . . . . .
im drunk if you cant tell already.
how iis your life? personally, i miss DC and all of the people in or around it, however, i think i need to make a move to chicago - its where iveryone is going, right?
Story 1: As you may have already heard, Ben, Elise, and I met Blaine Kern on Sunday when we went to visit Mardi Gras World. He was really nice and down to earth and told us his whole story of how he started his Mardi Gras float empire which has grown to a worldwide operation. It was actually my first time going to Mardi Gras World and I was very impressed.
Anyway, the next part is that yesterday I had to go to the Sheraton hotel to drop off some stuff for a meeting and I ran I into him walking into the hotel. I talked to him again for a bit, told him I really enjoyed hearing his story, etc. He again was very friendly. The whole time I was thinking "I wonder how rich this guy is exactly".
Story 2: After work yesterday I went to eat with some girlfriends and we wanted to grab a drink after dinner. We were in the Bucktown/Metairie area and drove by this place called Sweet Fire and Ice. We decided to go have a drink there despite it's flashy cheesiness. So we're at the bar and my friend points out this guy with a lot of plastic surgery. Lo and behold, it's Al Copeland, the founder of Popeye's Chicken (&Biscuits) and owner of the restaurant/bar we are sitting at. He also owns Cheesecake Bistro and Strayas restaurants in New Orleans. So of course I had to talk to him and we ended up talking for about an hour. By the end of our conversation I heard all about his businesses, heard about that fight he got into a while back with the Guidry guys at Mortons Steakhouse (I had to ask about that), and he even showed me pictures of his kids. There's so much to say about this guy that I don't know where to start. in one sentence I would say that he is quite a character, flithy rich, and most likely into some dirty La. politics.
So there you have it folks. I met two millionaires in one day. I just wish they would have given me some money just to be nice.
i just got an email from one of my best friends.
his plane landed "safely" in iraq,
though it was hit by lightning on the way in.
i wish i know how to feel about this.
i know i feel anger, and
helplessness and
sadness and
HATE.
i want to rant about this but i don't think anything i have to say will do any good. we all bitch about politics until we can't see straight but our friends and family still get sent places to get shot at and to kil people and i am so discouraged that these are all facts.
brian was here a year ago this time, and we got drunk in a tiny izakaya and he sweet-talked the mama-san. i wish he was here, now. i would never let him leave.
I am really into the idea of reinventing myself. I think that's one of the reasons moving so far away is very appealing to me (aside from the fact I have lived all my 25 years in the surrounding MD/VA/DC area). I enjoy the concept of being able to go some place where not many people know me and become the person I wish I could be. Now whether or not this is just some kind of Enid Coleslaw-esque fantasy I can't really be certain but the thought excites me nonetheless. Escapism has always been a bittersweet friend of mine. I can hope that moving cross-country is going to encourage this change in myself, but I can't just expect myself to magically transform. It, like most things I want out of life, is something I'll have to work at knowingly. As I've gotten older I've discovered that things seldom fall into your lap, you have to make them happen. My problem has always been the whole "making it happen" part.
Right at this very moment all I want out of life is decent, warm weather and a large burrito doused in jalapeno sauce.
Today has been chock full of lots of Belle & Sebastian. One of the other receptionists here happens to be a big fan (and I'd reckon that he's probably a bigger fan than myself). Got to listen to the yet to be released Life Pursuit album. So far I'm liking it!
I know I'm super late on this but I JUST joined netflix yesterday. I figured the time was right. If anyone wants to be added to my Netflix friend's let me know.
Also, keepin' this on the DL but if anyone in the DC area (reliable, dependable and likeable) is interested in a fairly low maintance job (30 hours a week) hit me up.
