Listen. When your car alarm goes off-no one is going to investigate the possible theft of your car. We are only thinking-"Who is that asshole? Turn it off!" and hating you. Maybe car alarms are relevant in other, bigger cities but no one is going to break into your eight year old Honda at noon on South Congress. There are hundreds of people walking up and down the street. Did it not occur to you, when you walked away for hours to enjoy some music twenty blocks from your vehicle, that someone might accidentally jostle your car and set off your stupid alarm? Do you hear it-miles away, jamming to your "live" music down by the lake? No? Well, I do.
Jeff and I took Ruby down to South Congress to hear some music today. The streets were full of people. It was sunny, about eighty degrees with a cool wind blowing.It was lovely. I really enjoyed it for about twenty minutes.
We ran into Johnny Berlin, this guy we watched a documentary about a few weeks ago. He really is sort of crazy in this charmingly unpredictable way. He told us all about renaming himself Johnny Neadertal for an upcoming movie.He talked really, really fast.
"It's Neander TAL not thal, isn't that weird? I always thought it was thal-what's that?"He pointed at some dirt on our stroller then quickly swerved back on topic. Entertaining in person as well as on screen, this guy. Very sweet.
"The Butterscotch Stallion liked him," said Jeff, who has started referring to himself in the third person whenever he wears this one, unfortunate, caramel colored leather jacket from the seventies. You can tell that this jacket used to be cool, the cut is nice, but it's an odd color, so worn and stained that it looks like he dug it up from a gravesite, possibly stolen from the body of a man who died from disco overdose, poisoned by too much aftershave, or attacked by a feral wildcat. the shoulder is tattered and the entire back is decorated by a spreading stain of something that looks like vomit.
"The Butterscotch Stallion looks good tonight!" I told him. I encourage this jacket. What is the opposite term for "Pussy Magnet"? Because unless the ladies of South Congress have a sudden yearning for an aimless drifter-that jacket ensures that loose women will not flirt with my man. It's not that he looks homeless, per se, it's just that for a second or two-you ask yourself that question-something is wrong with that man-what is it? Two seconds is enough to make any home wrecking whore continue to scan the bar to find another man. I love that jacket.
Because I had my butterscotch serenity, and because standing in a parking lot for more than thirty seconds listening to music makes me feel an overwhelming urge to go home and lay down, we left Jeff to enjoy the chaos of people and music that is South by Southwest.He ran into some friends who pulled him into a bar he didn't like.The bartender there hates him, but it's likely that it's not Jeff's fault. The guy wears a pin that says "I'm a dick."
As we walked away I could hear him protesting,"The Butterscotch Stallion is going to get kicked out of here in a minute...."
Here is the link to one of the contributions I'm making this week to the Style column in the Chronicle-
It’s (not) Flag Day.
11 hours ago