What happens when a literary butch meets up with a femme modern dance choreographer?
Luck of the Irish
It’s all about beautiful women, family history, stories told in exile. Life as art, art as death. Sometimes luck runs out, sometimes it never starts. Sometimes you meet someone incredible. It changes your life and changes nothing at all. You’re a lucky guy with bad luck. Wishing on falling stars does no good. You need a four leaf clover, dude. You’re a mutt: too much Swedish blood, not enough Irish. Go rent an Ingmar Bergman flick. Sometimes it feels like you’ve been edited out of the story of your own life. You’re like the curled up pieces of film scattered all over the concrete editing room floor. Maybe you should try passing out popcorn and 3D glasses to make yourself more interesting. OK go ahead and tell your story. Yeah I believe in time travel. Travels beyond gravity, that sounds interesting. Didn’t Einstein take gravity out of the equation? I guess he didn’t want to get weighed down (slappin myself silly).
Life Outside the Cave
Sometimes you take a chance. Sometimes you venture out into the light. Sometimes you throw caution to the wind. You have to suit up for time travel and be ready for the spaceship when it shows up at your door. Steppin into the mystic baby.
Jakes & The Fine Art of Conversation
It’s hard to get past the red hair and bright eyes but the conversation is fascinating. We can’t stop laughing and talking long enough to order. Art, travel, childhood, love, friendship, music, books, politics, prison, gender… can’t you think of anything interesting to say, my dear. Laughing. Pour the lady another cosmo, and get it right this time. Don’t forget your white leather jacket or we’ll have to return for hamburgers and start the conversation all over again. It’s all about the pie. Marionberry: the corrupt politician. That’s the funniest fucking thing I’ve heard in a long, long time.
The Secret Life of Books and Those Who Love Them:
Between the Shelves at Powells & other Wonderful Adventures
You like Julio Cortazar? I do too. I like smart girls in glasses. First editions, I know a bit about that. Let me show you the front page. First state (or issue) of the first printing of the first edition- that’s as close to God as you can get. Yes you can tell a lot about a book by its cover. Bad sci fi art rocks. All the people think we’re bookstore clerks. It’s terribly exciting. We adjust our glasses and smile. This is a fun adventure. Let’s send away for detective badges and invisible ink. Let me carry your tote of first editions to the next room. Yes I’m the perfect gentleman. Thomas Wolfe never wrote a novel in his life. Maxwell “smart” Perkins pieced it all together. You can’t go home again or even look homeward the same way twice, ain’t that the truth. Did I ever tell you I love to read out loud. It will put you to sleep, but in a nice way. I have a hypnotic effect on girls. I’ll show you my references. You should read the Golden Notebook. If it gets too bleak put it away. You can always come back to it later. Books are a girl’s best friend.
Shall We Dance
Recipe for greatness: take 4 tons of steel trusses, stage, the whole nine yards, and plop it right down in the heart of the city of Roses. You’re the talk of the town all day. Everyone wonders what’s up. Take it to the limit. It’s art intervention, super-sized, where Art meets Civic Pride, right on the Max line and across the street from Nordstrom’s. It’s modern dance. Relax and go with the flow. These artists are fun. It’s a bon voyage, a street party, it’s life in the fast lane. We’re proud this is happening in our home town. We’re small town like that here. On with the show. It’s gymnastics & acrobatics & slapstick. The dancers are flying and tumbling and crashing and scraping their knees. They’re getting bunched up into little boxes and ducking concrete blocks. There’s really no way to describe it. You had to be there. It’s the greatest thing I’ve seen since I saw Etta James live, where the earth stood still and her magnificent voice was etched across the sky as the Willamette River flowed in the background. This is like Van Gogh’s starry starry night, cuz yeah it’s a warm summer magical night of mystery and discovery. The dancers are flying. Anything can happen. Will lightning strike twice?
Bon Soir Mon Amie
You’ve been walking girls home from school since you were 5 years old, dude, you can do it. The boom is about to be lowered but just pretend you don’t notice. Ask your dumb question and get it over with. Keep your cool when you get the speech about how lucky some girl is going to be some day. Shake hands and be friends. You promised. Bow and say good night. Bon soir mon amie, bon soir.
p.s.: … a sweet gentleman with a hard, angry cock. Maybe some day some lucky girl will enjoy the ride. She may even live happily ever after.
True Confessions of a Nerd
Humans really can fly. I saw it last night. It’s incredible what the human body is capable of, traveling through space-time in all its glorious permutations. I’m thinking about this traveling through space-time, no really I’m thinking about a girl, but trying to keep my mind on other things… it all leads me to Einstein’s Theory of Relativity. I figure it’ll help me understand modern dance a little bit better and help keep my mind partially occupied while I’m feeling so blue. Yeah, I looked up articles on Albert’s special theory of relativity on the internet. I’m not sure I understand quantum physics any better, but it’s fascinating stuff and it kept me off the sauce. Laughing at myself, mon amie, who else would do that. We’d be laughing over hamburgers if I told you.
Gentlebutch Rant
If Thelma & Louise picked you up on some dusty, lonesome highway you’d soon become fast friends. You’re no Brad Pitt type who can’t string 2 sentences together kinda sexy, but you sure are one helluva nice, charming guy. They might like your ride, but they’ll never find out. Those girls are going to tell you all their secrets and drop you off in the next town.
You’re Jimmy Stewart sans Donna Reed & the kids. If you have a guardian angel it’s definitely Clarence. He’s probably lost somewhere.
OK this rant is getting tiresome. There’s a fine line between self righteous indignation and wallowing in self pity. Stop crying in your beer and call the class to attention. Pop quiz: which gets better mileage (a) Gentleman (b) Bad Boy (c) None of the Above (d) All of the Above. [disclaimer: cock not included with c]. This is multiple choice so you have to choose. I’ve got the essay answer in my blue book, but I don’t feel like sharing. Girls if you want to choose (b), go to the back of the class, think of yourselves as fucked up, and continue to let the bad boys treat you like shit. I’m tired of this rant. It’s time for ice cream.
Class Dismissed
OK class put your pens down. I’m serious this time. It appears that some of you have refused to answer the multiple choice question and have written long, detailed explanations. I’ll be around to collect your blue books shortly. I’d love to read all about it. I always do. It’s just that I like tormenting smart girls. Class dismissed.
Everything’s Relative
Albert was a very smart guy. He took gravity out of the equation and based his theory all on reference frames. There’s no such thing as an absolute frame of reference, it all depends on where you stand. There’s no place in the universe that is ever stationary and none of us is ever standing in the exact same place, ever. Everything in the universe is constantly in motion. We’re all a bunch of time travelers. We all experience everything from our own frame of reference. No wonder I don’t understand women.
Everything You Ever Needed to Know
You have brains in your head
You have feet in your shoes
You can steer yourself
Any direction you choose.
You’re on your own. And you know what you know.
And YOU are the guy (girl) who’ll decide where to go.
That’s Dr. Seuss baby. It doesn’t get any better.
P.S.
Don’t tell my agent but I’m talking to the girl next door. She lives in Spokane.