The guy stopped me on the street in Carroll Gardens, under the blue-tarped scaffolding, with some hand gestures and a:
Sir. Excuse me. Sir. You gotta help me.
Sir. Excuse me. Sir. You gotta help me.
(yep. heard this before.)
What’s that magazine? The one where it’s got nice drawings of ladies…artistic, ya know…and articles…good articles…kinda high society, ya know, classy…..with beautiful naked ladies…(he paints the sky with lyrical lines between both of us…smiling while he does it.) It’s not Playboy.
(okay. nope. didn’t hear this before.)
(okay. nope. didn’t hear this before.)
me (no clue): “um FHM?”
him: no no (he then describes again)
me (his enthusiasm is contagious): man, that magazine sounds great!…..but yeah, no, I don’t know it…but yeah, I wanna find that magazine…it sounds GREAT.
him: yeah, right? Great magazine. Really great magazine. Comes out once a month. Yeah….I figured you might know what it is or something. You look like you would know….I gotta get me that magazine.
(we start putting distance between us)
me: hey, good luck…I’ll be looking too….
Truthfully, I haven’t looked yet.
My enthusiasm has extinguished.
Truthfully, I haven’t looked yet.
My enthusiasm has extinguished.
What’s that candle poem…?
My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends–
It gives a lovely light!
I was hoping the poem spoke better to snuffed out enthusiasm. And I was wrong.
My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends–
It gives a lovely light!
I was hoping the poem spoke better to snuffed out enthusiasm. And I was wrong._____________________
Later that night, I’m sharing free drinks, and laughy ha-ha’s, and chicken finger food with an exuberant soul of a woman who was first discovered by LL Cool J at 16, as a dancer, a dancer he was so impressed by that he tasked her with picking the rest of his back-up dancers for an upcoming tour. Later she danced for Mary Blige and Whitney Houston. She spent a good portion of one conversation defending the character of Bobby Brown. Had him out to be a classy guy. Maybe a guy that reads that magazine the guy earlier in the day, is talking about.
_____________________
Then, in the morning, I order a double espresso and I do this by asking: Can I get me one of them double espresso’s please? The guy makes it and places it on the counter and I ask how much it is and he says:
_____________________
Then, in the morning, I order a double espresso and I do this by asking: Can I get me one of them double espresso’s please? The guy makes it and places it on the counter and I ask how much it is and he says:
Because you said “PLEASE”, it’s on the house. And I think: NOW WHO’s THE CLASSY GUY? And I also think: Hey Dave, remember that NPR story about this woman trying to learn English while working as a waitress and being tripped up by idioms. Customers would joke with her by saying “And of course this is in on the house today, right?” and this woman would be stuck imagining the plate of flapjacks with a side of chicken apple sausage sitting on the roof of her house and how was she going to get it down. Yes, Dave, I do remember that story.
ilunga (Tshiluba) [ee-Iun-ga] (noun)
This word from the Tshiluba language of the Republic of Congo has topped a list drawn up with the help of one thousand translators as the most untranslatable word in the world. It describes a person who is ready to forgive any transgression a first time and then to tolerate it for a second time, but never for a third time.
