dear friends, are your ankles in the air?
vince and i gave $1450 today to a guy who recently drank all night with hunter s. thompson ("he's pissed off [naturally!] about someone shooting a coyote in his yard") and keith caradine. apparently, the ol' chap's hotel room was next door to the former and down the hall from the latter at a recent film festival down south. same guy, back in the day, road managed lynerd skynerd and one other famous vintage rock band. his very good buddy is dilbert mcclinton. recently he hung out back stage with the stones.
"how'd they look?" i asked.
"keith richards looks like a dinasaur," said dean the road manager turned furniture liquidator. "and mick jagger is smaller than you'd think. he's really small."
as for dilbert, he just bought a million dollar house in mexico and is looking to buy one in austin. the place in mexico..."it's really beautiful," said dean with dancing eyebrows.
seems the music bidness ain't too shoddy for some.
***
summerset mall two days after thanksgiving looks and feels like an airport on the same day: the lines stretch out of view and backs bow from package pickup.
you do what you can to amuse yourself while your boyfriend stalks the winter coat that might fit his too-long arms. you suggest that he single-handedly bring back the male poncho. he looks at you with pursed lips. you go sit in the waiting area with overstuffed chairs and doze, the human coat rack.
near the end of my rope, we went into bang & olufsen to goof around with overpriced telephones and stereo receivers. the back room is a giant playroom for the technologically starved moneyed male. sleek black and silver appointments and sexyloud surround sound. bruce, the big&tallest salesman i've ever seen flicks the channel to american football, my cue to leave the boys to themselves.
bruce follows me out.
bruce: are you looking for something special?
me: nah. just seeing what kind of toys the wealthy tech-savvy crowd dig.
bruce: well, you and your husband...(he looks to my face and to vince's and sees the hesitation on both)...or your most easy-going best friend--that's what my friend calls me [great big grin]--might like our...(he begins an inviting diatribe about some system or other) blah blah blah....
vince: well, yeah, it's cool. thanks. (he turns and grabs me so we can reaffirm our commitment to kill a coat and drag it back to the cave or die trying.)
bruce: well, stacy, you and your most easy-going best friend can just give me a call if you have any questions about anything, including the custom furniture we talked about.
i link arms with my most easy-going male best friend and we walk into terminal mall traffic.
***
tonight, after vin set in place the furniture we spent about one month of my salary on, we went to a party at the place of one of his good buddies from his college days. kelly.
within 15 minutes of our arrival kelly and vince were off by themselves in the corner of the dining room, near the hors d'euvres, sniggering about something. the guests immediately flocked and circled.
guest 1: so how do you guys know each other? (smile)
geust 2: (little quiche pointed in their direction) yeah, how?
kelly: we had a class together our freshman year.
guest 2: where?
the word "harvard" is heard above the din from the living room.
kelly: harvard.
guest 2: (snort) yeah right!
kelly: WHAT!? what about me indicates we didn't meet in a class at harvard.
guest 2: hahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
kelly: tsk.
vince: we had this advanced lit class with...kraft, right kel?
kelly: yeah. weird scene. vince looked about the normalist guy in the class. he had this black t-shirt on that probably said "harpos*" on it. he had these black pants ["which he still probably has!" i yell]. he was super tall and his legs were about the same size around as his arms [and just about as long--see comment above about our trying to find a jacket that fits them].
vince: yeah.
kelly: yeah. we immediately bagan to make fun of everybody in the room.
vince: some things never change.
*in the mid-80s harpos was the detroit hot spot for entertainers in the vein of mitch rider, poison, twisted sister and the like. harpos then closed for years after murder and mayhem ensued. it reopened but the death-wish-inflected thrill seekers hung out. poison and twisted sister still probably play there.
***
after a few hours of eating, drinking and chatting at this party of about a dozen late-30-somethings--some happylooking, some not-so-happylooking, i found myself in the kitchen with phil, kelly's good-natured liberal neighbor. seamus and kelly's husband keith were across the newly renovated kitchen, leaning againt the counter, tall drinks in hand. i recognize them both from keith's 25-year-old? black-and-white little league photos upstairs.
seamus: (to stacy) so, stacy, what's your story? you came with phil? (to phil) you sleeping with her?
me: (looking to phil) well, i came in the room with phil and i'm having a conversation with phil. but no, i'm not sleeping with phil.... would you like to know who i sleep with?
keith: oh, i know who you sleep with.
seamus: don't i know you from somewhere? you look really familiar.
me: aaaaaaaaaah, haven't i heard that one before? kidding. but no, really, seamus, i don't think so. i don't remember meeting you before tonight.
seamus: oh, so, it wasn't you with your ankles up in the air...?
phil, standing next to me, did not answer, looked a pinch embarrassed then bored. he left the room quietly soon after this exchange.
you know, vince, my most easy-going male best friend, says i hate men. and well, i don't remember asking to be imagined by anybody with my ankles up over my head or anybody else's for that matter... so i guess i do hate what happens when i'm privvy to some things about men.
sometimes it embarrasses me. sometimes it offends me. always it intrigues me. and i'm still working my way through the taking-it-personal.
and so to vince, well... i don't hate all men. and like jesus h. (was it him?) has been quoted as saying: love the sinner, hate the sin. meanwhile, i guess i'm waiting for a few more gents to raise the bar--and not for any body parts.
till then... i'll keep my ankles where they'll give me the most benefit when i'm exercising on a horizontal plane. at heart level.
"how'd they look?" i asked.
"keith richards looks like a dinasaur," said dean the road manager turned furniture liquidator. "and mick jagger is smaller than you'd think. he's really small."
as for dilbert, he just bought a million dollar house in mexico and is looking to buy one in austin. the place in mexico..."it's really beautiful," said dean with dancing eyebrows.
seems the music bidness ain't too shoddy for some.
summerset mall two days after thanksgiving looks and feels like an airport on the same day: the lines stretch out of view and backs bow from package pickup.
you do what you can to amuse yourself while your boyfriend stalks the winter coat that might fit his too-long arms. you suggest that he single-handedly bring back the male poncho. he looks at you with pursed lips. you go sit in the waiting area with overstuffed chairs and doze, the human coat rack.
near the end of my rope, we went into bang & olufsen to goof around with overpriced telephones and stereo receivers. the back room is a giant playroom for the technologically starved moneyed male. sleek black and silver appointments and sexyloud surround sound. bruce, the big&tallest salesman i've ever seen flicks the channel to american football, my cue to leave the boys to themselves.
bruce follows me out.
bruce: are you looking for something special?
me: nah. just seeing what kind of toys the wealthy tech-savvy crowd dig.
bruce: well, you and your husband...(he looks to my face and to vince's and sees the hesitation on both)...or your most easy-going best friend--that's what my friend calls me [great big grin]--might like our...(he begins an inviting diatribe about some system or other) blah blah blah....
vince: well, yeah, it's cool. thanks. (he turns and grabs me so we can reaffirm our commitment to kill a coat and drag it back to the cave or die trying.)
bruce: well, stacy, you and your most easy-going best friend can just give me a call if you have any questions about anything, including the custom furniture we talked about.
i link arms with my most easy-going male best friend and we walk into terminal mall traffic.
tonight, after vin set in place the furniture we spent about one month of my salary on, we went to a party at the place of one of his good buddies from his college days. kelly.
within 15 minutes of our arrival kelly and vince were off by themselves in the corner of the dining room, near the hors d'euvres, sniggering about something. the guests immediately flocked and circled.
guest 1: so how do you guys know each other? (smile)
geust 2: (little quiche pointed in their direction) yeah, how?
kelly: we had a class together our freshman year.
guest 2: where?
the word "harvard" is heard above the din from the living room.
kelly: harvard.
guest 2: (snort) yeah right!
kelly: WHAT!? what about me indicates we didn't meet in a class at harvard.
guest 2: hahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
kelly: tsk.
vince: we had this advanced lit class with...kraft, right kel?
kelly: yeah. weird scene. vince looked about the normalist guy in the class. he had this black t-shirt on that probably said "harpos*" on it. he had these black pants ["which he still probably has!" i yell]. he was super tall and his legs were about the same size around as his arms [and just about as long--see comment above about our trying to find a jacket that fits them].
vince: yeah.
kelly: yeah. we immediately bagan to make fun of everybody in the room.
vince: some things never change.
*in the mid-80s harpos was the detroit hot spot for entertainers in the vein of mitch rider, poison, twisted sister and the like. harpos then closed for years after murder and mayhem ensued. it reopened but the death-wish-inflected thrill seekers hung out. poison and twisted sister still probably play there.
after a few hours of eating, drinking and chatting at this party of about a dozen late-30-somethings--some happylooking, some not-so-happylooking, i found myself in the kitchen with phil, kelly's good-natured liberal neighbor. seamus and kelly's husband keith were across the newly renovated kitchen, leaning againt the counter, tall drinks in hand. i recognize them both from keith's 25-year-old? black-and-white little league photos upstairs.
seamus: (to stacy) so, stacy, what's your story? you came with phil? (to phil) you sleeping with her?
me: (looking to phil) well, i came in the room with phil and i'm having a conversation with phil. but no, i'm not sleeping with phil.... would you like to know who i sleep with?
keith: oh, i know who you sleep with.
seamus: don't i know you from somewhere? you look really familiar.
me: aaaaaaaaaah, haven't i heard that one before? kidding. but no, really, seamus, i don't think so. i don't remember meeting you before tonight.
seamus: oh, so, it wasn't you with your ankles up in the air...?
phil, standing next to me, did not answer, looked a pinch embarrassed then bored. he left the room quietly soon after this exchange.
you know, vince, my most easy-going male best friend, says i hate men. and well, i don't remember asking to be imagined by anybody with my ankles up over my head or anybody else's for that matter... so i guess i do hate what happens when i'm privvy to some things about men.
sometimes it embarrasses me. sometimes it offends me. always it intrigues me. and i'm still working my way through the taking-it-personal.
and so to vince, well... i don't hate all men. and like jesus h. (was it him?) has been quoted as saying: love the sinner, hate the sin. meanwhile, i guess i'm waiting for a few more gents to raise the bar--and not for any body parts.
till then... i'll keep my ankles where they'll give me the most benefit when i'm exercising on a horizontal plane. at heart level.
posted by stacy muszynski at 6:18 AM
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