A New Leaf
7-2-98 9:50 PM Th
Shirelle and I are finishing up drinks at the newly refurbished Formosa Café. It's lost some of its old-school charm. The waitress wants to know if she can get us anything else. "Just the check, please."
The food is more expensive now, and somehow better prepared, but blander. Shirelle's got a chardonnay; I'm having my second bourbon. They have the 101 proof Wild Turkey here. Shirelle's trying to plan some Fourth of July festivities. I'm not helping much. I don't care. Not in a bad way. I just don't have any suggestions or any objections. "Did you know Cary Grant did a lot of acid?'
"I guess I heard that somewhere." She's telling me now if I buy the duplex I should rent to a gay couple. "They're neat and reliable," she says. We're going to go back to her place and watch that movie "Blood and Wine". Now she says, "The like handyman came today. He had a list of names. Lee, the owner, told him, 'No one works except for Neyda, the prostitute who works at home." She laughed. I gave her a blank look.
"I have good BBQs," I say.
She makes a face.
"Why do you make that face?"
Now she wants me to go to her friends' house to pick up a desk for her. I ask a few questions, and when I agree to do it, she says, "Forget about it."
I have a muscle spasm or something where my back, neck and shoulder meet.
Everything between us is incomprehensible. What else? Now she walked off without saying anything. Her purse is still here in the booth. She probably just went to the bathroom. She's got that wounded confused look. She doesn't like that my ex-girlfriend, who just got married, invited me to a party she and her new husband are having. Ex-girlfriend of ten years ago. Whatever. She was pained and confused just trying to order off the menu. Our relationship sucks. That's the way life treats you. My fortune cookies says to make business my top priority next month. Why'z everything got to suck? Nonsense and more nonsense. She's back with a new glass of chardonnay. She told me on the porch two days ago that she had given up drinking, was going to turn things around, turn over a new leaf.
Shirelle and I are finishing up drinks at the newly refurbished Formosa Café. It's lost some of its old-school charm. The waitress wants to know if she can get us anything else. "Just the check, please."
The food is more expensive now, and somehow better prepared, but blander. Shirelle's got a chardonnay; I'm having my second bourbon. They have the 101 proof Wild Turkey here. Shirelle's trying to plan some Fourth of July festivities. I'm not helping much. I don't care. Not in a bad way. I just don't have any suggestions or any objections. "Did you know Cary Grant did a lot of acid?'
"I guess I heard that somewhere." She's telling me now if I buy the duplex I should rent to a gay couple. "They're neat and reliable," she says. We're going to go back to her place and watch that movie "Blood and Wine". Now she says, "The like handyman came today. He had a list of names. Lee, the owner, told him, 'No one works except for Neyda, the prostitute who works at home." She laughed. I gave her a blank look.
"I have good BBQs," I say.
She makes a face.
"Why do you make that face?"
Now she wants me to go to her friends' house to pick up a desk for her. I ask a few questions, and when I agree to do it, she says, "Forget about it."
I have a muscle spasm or something where my back, neck and shoulder meet.
Everything between us is incomprehensible. What else? Now she walked off without saying anything. Her purse is still here in the booth. She probably just went to the bathroom. She's got that wounded confused look. She doesn't like that my ex-girlfriend, who just got married, invited me to a party she and her new husband are having. Ex-girlfriend of ten years ago. Whatever. She was pained and confused just trying to order off the menu. Our relationship sucks. That's the way life treats you. My fortune cookies says to make business my top priority next month. Why'z everything got to suck? Nonsense and more nonsense. She's back with a new glass of chardonnay. She told me on the porch two days ago that she had given up drinking, was going to turn things around, turn over a new leaf.
Labels: Lowlife LA Literature
posted by johnz at 3:20 PM
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