This is for all you voyeurs out there, who love to read a life. if that's not you, ignore this.
I really screwed up. Oh, and i was so together, too. I was trying to be so together.
I pulled this meeting together, it's a new committee, i'm supposed to lead it. But i'm so easily distracted. Today the issue of ArtByte came in and of course i had to read it, stem to stern, to try to imagine how i could fit in - and then i had to compose my response to Beth, and send it, hoping that she'll still want me to write for the magazine, even though i'm not really all that cool. And then, to clear my mind, i go for a walk. Maybe on my way home I'll pick up some beer. Tonight could be nice.
I'm all the way over on Smith campus, walking and singing, when i remember the meeting which started 10 minutes before. I try calling home but I bet Dan's online. I know the office where we're meeting is somewhere on Gothic Street, which is between here and home, so i run up and down looking for clues. Even though i'm not prepared for the meeting. I try calling home again. I run home & boot Dan off the computer (it's mine, i can do that).
By this time, it's quarter to nine. But they're still there when Deb answers, and puts me on speakerphone to try to come up with a plan of action. I hate speakerphone, by the way, so if i call you, don't do this to me. But this time, i deserve it, and go along. Everybody, as is status quo, is going in several different directions.. i have to try to make it cohere.
So, ok, at least now i'll go get that beer. Pop's (feeling down? come to Pop's) is just down the street.
On my way back, there's someone coming the other way. It.. IS.. that guy. that one who i've seen, let's see:
- at Stop & Shop, that once. He and his friend were buying cheese. i wondered if he lived around here, or was just passing through. but how many just-visitors buy a block of cheese?
- walking down the street with a video in his hand, snapping the other. he didn't see me that time. but he goes to the same video store! and he lives not too far away.
- on tax day at the post office. he's in line, six or seven people away from me. i want to jump on him and say, do you realize what you're doing to me when you look at me? you're giving me chills! who gave you that right?
- fifteen minutes later, he and his friend are walking down market street behind me. i resist the urge to stop, and when i turn around they're gone.
So when i reach him, we say hello, but i start walking backwards. I do not have the guts to say what i have beeen thinking i would say if i spoke to him, which is Who do you think you are? To do this to me? Who do you think you ARE!?
I am walking backwards, facing him, and all i can say is, i've seen you before. He has the grace to agree. I am ready to follow him home, but he stops, (after names have been exchanged and hands shaken) and asks for my number. He says he has a good memory for numbers, but no paper, and he lives just "over there". I'm sure this is a ploy to get me off his tail.
He looks like a cross betwen John Lennon and Gary Oldman, only younger (oh, and alive, and American). He's got this fantastic mouth.