9:29 a.m. - 2004-08-16
sonnets
So last night when I was waiting for Michele to pick me up, on the corner of Broadway and Olive...slightly notorious for shady activity, but not dangerous or anything...this guy in a wheelchair, wearing a yellow playboy bunny tank top and a black cowboy hat, wheels up to me. He asks me in a british accent "Are you married?" I really hate this question. "No." I say with a tone of voice that I hope means "I'm not interested. Leave me alone. I hear this three times a day and it's getting old." and then he says "Do you date foreign black men who ride 'round in wheelchairs?" It was so earnest and hopeful, and yet bitingly british, I had to laugh. So, he was my friend for 15 minutes while I waited for Michele. He told me that he's here in the states looking for a wife, and that he's from a wealthy british family...the more time you spend observing and talking to street folk, the more you realize that it's simply about the experience of talking to them, and not about whether what they're saying is true or offensive or whatever. All of the reasons in the world why I wouldn't go out with him, not the least of which being a certain gentleman who lives in Ann Arbor, MI, this fellow doesn't care about, and it wouldn't make a bit of difference. Umm, I have a boyfriend, umm, what's your relationship with Jesus like, umm my mom told me not to talk to strangers. It doesn't matter. He just wanted to talk. So we talked. He told me that I'm the kind of woman they wrote the sonnets about, and that he was going to write a story about me and then a poem. Then his bus came and his friend grabbed him and his wheelchair and they took off down the street as he waved.
Then two shirtless white guys got into a fistfight about three feet away from me over a bicycle. It started with one guy THROWING the bike at the other. It hit him in the face, then they kind of fought, swinging at each other, the bike between them on the ground. They were drunk. It ended with one guy stopping in mid swing and for no apparent reason, running away suddenly, singing.
So, there I am, with my leftover Thai food, waiting for Michele...waiting for MIchele to take me to Bob's house to watch 24. Now, Kelly has informed me that she is now skipping paragraphs in the blog because of my constant mentioning of 24. I know, it's annoying. Maybe I should have a seperate blog for 24 addicts. I'll try to do better. The sad thing is that while almost everyone would love 24 if they just gave it a shot, Kelly would hate it. She would say "That's stressful."
Well, it seems that according to my mother, both she and her mother were chronic insomniacs. Great.
Lindsey is coming to town today. Yay! I wonder if we can drop 24 long enough to have a little gathering or something.
Patrick, thanks for the linkage on your site, and for remembering your roots, even though you're big and famous enough to have your own blog now.
