Originally Posted Saturday, May 25, 2013
So, being sick for over a week, feeling terrible and thinking it cancer just the night before, I met up with a girl yesterday afternoon. I was still on shaky legs, but she wanted mimosas. It was two in the afternoon. O.K. Mimosas it was.
I'll skip ahead, skip ahead. . . . At seven, we went out for sushi. As always, the owners and staff were very attentive. I was with another beautiful woman, they said, each of them in their turn.
"Do you think she's beautiful?" I asked. "I've been telling her how ugly she is all afternoon. I think she's positively hideous."
It must do terrible things to a young woman's head to have people look at her so much. It is empowering, I know, but surely it does something else, too. And later, when the youthful beauty gives way to. . . whatever it gives way to. . . it must be quite something.
I had film cameras with me because, as you know, I'm trying to get away from the girl on the couch. It's coming, it's coming, but it takes time. It's film, goddamnit. It's not digital. So with my Leica and with my Mamiya 6 (which is a beautiful medium format rangefinder camera), I photographed her in the late afternoon sunlight. It was fun. We drank big Kirin Ichibans and had order after order of food as we played the day out as far as it would go. I was lucky to be in the company of such a beautiful woman, I thought. She is fun.
When we were finished eating and drinking and taking in the compliments of the staff, walking slowly back to the car, she clapped her hands and pointed to the sky.
"Look at that!"
It was the full moon, the Strawberry Moon. But was it full?
"I have to be careful," I said. "I must be certain. I have an astrologer friend who guts me if I miss it by a few minutes here or there."
She pulled out her phone.
"It sure looks full."
And indeed it did. It was one of the biggest, clearest moons I'd ever seen.
"Yes, it is full," she said a second later. "Ninety-eight percent full, anyway. That's close enough. It is a Super Moon."
I liked the sound of that. Apparently she had an app for this on her phone.
"This moon is in Scorpio," she said. "It is a perfect moon for performing an exorcism."
She startled me a bit with this.
"Oh. . . that will come later."
"It is a beautiful night. I want to go walking. Do you want to walk?"
"Sure I do," I said, having no desire to loose her company for the evening. "Let's go to the Boulevard and have a martini. Do you like martinis?"
"I'll drink whatever you want. I'd like to try a martini."
That's the way kids are, willing to try new things. What's not to like?
When we got close, it was obvious that it was not going to be easy to find parking.
"I'm going to park at the studio," I said. "We can walk from there."
She was just stunningly beautiful and stylish. I, however, was in a sweaty t-shirt and worn jeans and flip-flops. As we walked together, men at sidewalk tables couldn't help but stare. "
"They think you are an escort," I said.
"Escorts don't dress like this," she giggled.
"I don't care what they think. You are certainly reinforcing my reputation in this small town."
We found a place at the bar. Sort of. A man sitting at the bar offered true beauty his seat. She protested but he was insistent that he was just getting ready to leave. This never happens when I go in with my friend. Then things just end up in a shoving match because I can't get my drink.
The martinis came. I watched her eyes jump as she took the first sip, but I didn't say anything. I watched her more prudently take the second.
"Do you like it?"
"It's strong," she said.
"It's vodka."
"It's. . . interesting."
When mine was gone, I reached over and took hers.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Order something else. What do you want?"
She got something called an appletini. That's what it sounded like she said, anyway. It was green and came in a martini glass. I took a sip. It tasted like a Jolly Rancher.
"Do you like it?" she asked.
"You have the taste buds of a child."
Across the bar and down from us, there were three young muscular men. I'd noticed them right away when we sat down because they looked like arrogant cocks with big gym muscles and short-sleaved, tight shirts meant to show them off. They were too well groomed. Now I noticed them again. They were looking our way. What the fuck, I thought? So I looked without blinking. One turned to the other and said something and laughed, then turned back and looked again. Now all three of them were looking and making monkey faces and laughing.
"Look," I said. These guys are pissing me off. I'm not hearing whatever you are saying. I'm not being rude, I've just got to take care of this."
"What are you doing?"
I told her.
"Hey. . . you're scaring me."
I was staring at the three guys and was rapping my knuckles on the bar like I was trying to make the drinks jump up and down. Then I saw the biggest one motion me over with his finger.
"I'll be back," I said, and headed around to the other side of the bar. I was surely going to get my ass kicked, but what else was there to do? But when I got to them and stood behind their stools, not one of them turned around. They acted like I wasn't even there. I stood behind them and looked to where I had sat. There was the girl, the true beauty. I looked at her and shrugged, then headed back over to my seat.
"What the fuck," I said. "The pussies wouldn't even look up. Tell your friends." I tell you, I was feeling like a cowboy hero. The bartender was asking if we wanted another drink. I looked at the beautiful girl.
"I'll have one if you do," she said.
"O.K"
She looked at the bartender.
"I'll have another appletini."
I held up two fingers. Her eyes popped open.
"What the hell. I'll try one."
When the drinks arrived, we clicked glasses and I looked across the bar. The three fellows had three girls now. Women, I should say. Nothing like the child I was helping turn into an alcoholic.
"Look at the one with the big bleach blonde hair," I said in a derisive voice.
"Those are the women who were standing behind us."
"What?"
"Yea, I think that is who the guys were looking at. He motioned them over."
"What?!" My huge organ was beginning to shrink. "Holy shit. Really? They weren't looking at me?"
"I don't think so."
I could feel the throbbing of the knuckles on my right hand where I had been pounding them into the bar. What a hero. No wonder they hadn't looked around when I was standing at their backs. But surely. . . . I was trying hard now to hold onto my manhood.
I looked over at the fellows and the girls from time to time as I held my silly drink to my lips. None of them were looking our way. And then our glasses were empty and we headed back the way we came. We may have been a little drunk.
"I don't think I've had a glass of water in two days," I said. "I've been passing uric acid crystals instead of pee."
"That's not good for you," she said.
"Oh, really? Uh-oh."
The Super Strawberry Moon was high in the sky now. It was late. We were walking back to the studio past all the late night Boulevard revelers. Unknown to me, however, the night was still young.
But I haven't time nor energy now to tell you about the rest. Perhaps some other time. I've only had a few hours sleep and a pot of coffee. I need to get a greasy breakfast in me, so I'll leave it at this. Though it was late, we still had an exorcism to perform.
No comments:
Post a Comment