What Con Artist Wouldn't Want a Piece of This Ass?
Please read all of this to get the whole wierd-ass story.
You won't be sorry.
It's funny as hell.
Yesterday I had a fever, and then I spent today wandering around SoHo trying to Christmas shop, but all I bought was the new Interpol cd for myself.
He met me at the east Starbucks in Union Square at around 7:30. I had been sitting there with Liza - a highschool friend of my cousins with whom I hit it off surprisingly well - and I wondered out loud if I would recognize him. He walked directly up to me, though, and Liza said, "I guess you don't have to worry about recognizing him."
Funny way to have to start the night.
She went home, and Jon and I got in a taxi where he suggested an Indian restaurant and then seeing Harry Potter.
Sounded like a plan.
The Indian restaurant - on 1st Ave. - was narrow like a schoolbus, and was decorated in red, foil, Christmas wrapping-paper, plastic flowers stapled to the ceiling, and low-hanging, red lights shaped like chile peppers.
He got me a beer (me a Guiness, himself a Dos Equis)and helped me order - he also got appetizers.
We chatted comfortably, freely, flirtatiously at times, even. He showed me pictures of his nephew, his niece, and of him as a baby with his older sister. He talked about his family - Jehovah's Witnesses (whathefuc?) - and about how he wants to make movies with enthusiasm.
He thinks filmakers today lack enthusiasm and that's why he likes Quentin Terrantino better than Wes Anderson.
I mentioned linguistics and his face lit up.
He said he knew virtually nothing about linguistics, but had recently been turned on by the subject after hearing discussions regarding an entire committee formulated for developing a warning to future generations that our nuclear waste is hazardous.
He pointed out that no language has lasted more than a thousand years or so, and that's hardly the half-life of nuclear waste, and without such warning people might find the stuff and make jewelry out of it.
He was apparently fascinated by this.
At one point he brought up an ex-girlfriend in a flow of conversation, and I told him he was breaking the rule of first date.
He called it a first date before I did.
We killed time in a bar with Gothic decor and frat-party people while drinking bourbon. We discussed music, highschool, and the banality of the people around us and how we'd feel more comfortable around some honest-to-God Goths. We programmed some songs into the juke box to disrupt their frat-party groove; I know one was a Morrissey song.
Then we saw Harry Potter.
It was an 11:30 show time, and the theater was packed. So much so that we had to sit very near the front.
He held my hand and cuddled closely and made cute remarks that would have sounded stupid above a whisper.
We walked to the subway station speaking of next weekend and more fun in better weather. He gave me a hug, and a kiss, and I journeyed on my string of trains and tunnels.
Here's the kicker, do you have a cigarette?
(Movie reference: State and Main)
No really, there's a kicker:
On the thirty minute train ride back to Long Island I remembered I had picked up a copy of The Onion at the Virgin Mega Store.
"Awesome; now I won't fall asleep," and I began reading an interview with Chuck Palahniuk of the novel Fight Club fame.
In describing his new novel, Chuck talks about how one culture's sacred symbol becomes the next cultures wallpaper pattern. Then he said,
"What's to say that in God knows how many years, some culture isn't goin gto pick up our nuclear waste and start making jewelry out of it?"
Then Chuck describes a government project in Nevada - you guessed it - that's trying to find something that will function as a language beyond our civilization.
"I just think that's a glorious idea," Chuck ended his comment with, in much the same fashion as Jon's interest in my beloved linguistics.
The question now is whether this boy is completely bullshit, or if somehow he heard people talking based on this article and he himself was clueless about the article. Regardless, what are the fucking odds of us having THAT conversation right before I read the paper. The paper was in my purse the whole time. I had thought, "If the night lags, I'll pull this out for conversation fodder and some laughs." What if I had?
It's late, and I'm tired and have been rained on all day long, so I'm going to bed, but I want you all to think about this for me, and tell me what you think.
Especially you guys: are most guys pre-meditated enough to conjure up bull-shit they read in a satirical newspaper in order to fake interest in their date's field of study?
