Hullo Old Friend.
I know I keep saying this, but I am really going to make an effort to get back here.
I have this great new job. It's queer at best, odd. But the money is fantastic and the benefits are unreal in this economy. I'm an over night Room Service server at The "W" in Austin.
Rock Stars and weird rich white people who answer the door nekid.
That said, I have been dying to tell the story of something that happened to me only yesterday...
Not the Hotel, just me. Out and about on a day off. I don't get to be very social any more. My shift is from 10pm to 6am. Lots of restructuring? So days off are blighted by sleeplessness. Gotta do stuff, must be around PEOPLE! Always a bit in a fog of sleep deprivation.
Facebook simply does not have the room, or the temperature.
I'd mailed a package to Japan, a belated birthday present for a Clever Clown friend of mine in a Circus there now. Then I just sort of drove... North. Wound around UT Campus. Found myself at the North Central Market. I was wearing red plaid skinny jeans and an "ULTIMATE 6" comic book shirt. The guy in the bread department, did a double take. So I said: 'Morning!
I'm 42, he was hot tall DARK and gorgeous with an interestingly trimmed beard. Maybe 25? Maybe?
He says: I like your shirt.
(we are both so awkward, so silly.)
He's putting loaves of artisan bread on a rack....
"UM" he says, to keep the moment from ending?
"I hear there is a Comicon in town soon?"
Yeah, yeah yeah, 26th through the 28th. Whole reunion of STNG!
I can't make it. Lot's of Joss folks will be there too...
I have to work.
"Oh, that's not cool."
(he is young and beautiful and talking to me...hitting on me???)
I was surprised to find out tickets were still available.
But they start at $50.
He says: that's really not so much, considering.
I KNOW--HUNGH? I was at the (ginger just dives in at this point)
the Dallas Comicon in May, and Patrick Stewart did a panel. I think,
I would have tried harder for this one if that were not the case....
THIS would have been a GREAT time for me to laugh, extend my hand, and say:
Hey, I'm ginger. What's your name?
That didn't happen. He was too Hot, and my brain broke.
But it's good. I needed that.
And WOW, not even the story I meant to tell.
Hey, if you still read this?
Kathy, that was one of the shirts you gave me
when I was in Hospital after the wreck.
You who are not a fan of my favourite media?
You always found the best.
The real story, and maybe it isn't the real story...
Is about a guy on a motorcycle, behind me, when I was driving North on Lamar.
He had the GOGGLES. I do love the goggles...
And the messenger bag, and (did let him pass) little beard, with lip pierced.
The helmet, that helmet, that looks 1942 but isn't? All very utilitarian.
I am most embarrassed by the fact that cannot describe his machine properly.
It was NEW, but it wasn't. The sense of HORIZONTAL being fore front...very German.
Do you know what I mean?
He was behind or beside me....my whole drive North, to my favourite Asian Grocery Store.
A complex, really. (I call it "THE FORBIDDEN CITY" but it seems to be happy calling itself
'The M.T. Market') He turned off just before I got there.
The story REALLY begins, on my drive back.
I had the radio on, was munching "Hot Garlic Shrimp Chips" from a bag....destroying my lipstick.
And behind me?
The handsomely goggled Motorboy.
That is not possible.
Yet there he was.
And we drove HOME together.
ALL the way to Manchaca.
There was a stalky thing inside me that wanted to follow him home.
He turned off just before I turn off. I could have followed....
And just gone home along that route?
Stalky is bad.
I take this as a lesson in restraint.
And a lesson in perspective.
This is a very tiny world.