And Then Midnight

Eight-thirty on a Friday night, and I sit in front of the computer ripping George Shearing's "Snowfall" for your enjoyment as the big holiday approaches.  I heard the song just as I parked my car before going to the sushi bar, and I called home to leave myself a message.  It seemed perfect, somehow, for the evening. . . for the season.

I sat on the veranda.

"Sake?"

"No, not tonight.  Do you have iced green tea?"

The waiter thought for a moment and then said, "Yea, we can make that.  Sure.  You want the usual?"

He brought out the iced green tea.  It looked very light, very weak.  And it tasted perfect.

"What did you do?  Pour hot tea over ice?"

He grimaced a bit.  "Yea.  Is it O.K.?"

"Yes, it's great.  Better than sake or beer."

He laughed.  But I wasn't kidding.  It really was good, especially for someone who needs something stronger than water.  I drank it down and he got me another.  The hostess walked by.

"You no drink sake?"

"No.  I quit."

"You quit drink sake?"

"Yes."

"What wrong?  You got fever?"

Later, a waitress came by.

"You need sake?"

"No.  I quit drinking."

"Why?" she asked me like I was nuts.

"I'm getting fat."

"Where?"  She began to pinch me.

"Trust me.  I'm getting dimples."

She leaned close.  "I know what you mean.  Inside, I am, too.  I eat rice and drink wine every night."

She meant under her clothes.  She looked very fit like some femme fatale in a Seanery O'Connor James Bond movie.

"I drink whiskey."

"She threw her hands up in the air and shook her head as she walked away."

The food came and the owner walked up.

"You don't want sake," she asked me?

Repeat until everyone in the restaurant had asked me.  They stood in small groups and said "sake," heads tossing in my direction.  I assumed they made a lot of money on the sake.

As I came home from work today, the FedEx truck was sitting outside.  Perfect timing.  It was Frankencamera.  Not mine, but one like it.  Mine will surely come.

I carefully took it out of the box and checked it.  Shit.  It was complex.  I would have to think about how to shoot with it.  How do I set the shutter speed and aperture?  But holding it in my hands, I knew I had something.  It is heavy.  It is a monster.

I will try for an instant film image tomorrow.

So here I sit, clear headed, sober, bored and alone and very aware in what passes for pajamas, home for the night, cat planted heavily on my feet.  So here is a song for you.  Happy Holidays.

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Midnight

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Without liquor, perhaps, I do not pass out at ten, and wide awake, I thought to go out to my friend's bar downtown.  Then I thought of getting dressed and driving.  Awake but not ready.  Working on images with warm milk and the cat.  If you saw me through the window sitting at the table, would you think me anything like you?