Disorder
Any Joy Division fans in the house tonight? I'm listening to a mix I made in high school, which begins with their great song, "Disorder". Its first line says it all: "I've been waiting for the guy to come and take me by the hand..." Yup, someone to walk up and say, You've been crazy all these years, and we've been watching, Gawd knows... Come with me. And the equally great line from the last verse "Who is right, and who can tell, and who gives a damn right now? Til' The Spirit, new sensation takes hold, then ya' know."
Yeah, I know, "And then, on the eve of their first U.S. tour in '80, the author of those lines hung himself..." Yeah yeah...
I've been engaged in another one of those Exit Interview things, for the earlier part of the eve, with the lady who most recently has engaged me. It would seem, as always, that it is nothing that I did; I'm great, I'm told. No, no it's really that the woman who ends up with me one day will be the luckiest woman in the world, if she can give as good as I can...Bleah. People and their things. Personally, I had thought that the whole thing was just a good, uncomplicated situation, and if anything, she was the one who seemed to be falling into it too fast, which then caused her to spook and run.
Hard to say. That's Other People for you, and it does not do at all to try to suss their motives too deeply. I don't know why I'm even sharing this with you, O Notebook that Other People can read. What I really wanna talk about is Keisheimer.
We were getting ready to tape the teevee show the other evening, and I noticed that there was a reporter, with photog in tow, who seemed to be interviewing people on the show. "Great. There'll be a buncha great pictures of us standing around, drinking beer," I said. She was talking to Famous when I walked in.
"Well, like Rich here," he said, "He got a writing credit on last week's show, for a couple of jokes. And what's yer real title?"
"Uh, everything and nothing. 'Production Assistant'? 'Properties Manager'? I wait for things to go wrong, and then I fix them?"
What needed fixing that evening was Keisheimer. She is one of the editors on the paper that the aforementioned interviewer was from. No one was talking to her, which is something that just doesn't happen to The Talent on that show. She was sitting there, looking like every damned aloof hipster you've seen in your life: They're too Cool for You. But I know these people; I've been mistaken for them myself, once or twice, and I know that what most of them have going on is a crippling shyness, left over from being a weirdo, and largely ignored, when not taunted. It causes you, The Weirdo, to develop defense mechanisms along the lines of, "Well, why would I want lameasses like yourself to be my friend anyway? If that's all you got in the way of options, guess I'm taking No Friends, Bob." So you see. Someone like that moves to a weirdly provincial town that nonetheless has a vibrant scene (like Potland)(sic), becomes one of the de facto arbiters of taste, and is a big old drunk weirdo...Yeah, I don't think I'd try to act like everybody's buddy, either.
We had a fantastic time there, talking. I found out a number of interesting things, including why she was on the show at all. Our producer, German Foreign Minister Joschka Fischer, had felt the need, while drunk recently, to destroy one of her car's windows (with his head? did I really hear that?). In lieu of payment for the broken window (after she chased his ass down, I might add), he said something in the neighborhood of "Wanna be on teevee?", and next thing you know, she is.
After we exhaust the many topics worthy of discussion, Keisheimer points out that she actually is cripplingly shy, and has no idea what to do once she's out there in front of the cameras. I hasten to point out that almost nobody watches this show, and furthermore that all she needs to do is sit out there and let Famous be funny, indeed he would be deeply offended if anyone was even attempting to be funnier than him. Show biz types. As I like to say, at the beginning of each show as a good luck intonation: "There's Plen-ty of business like Showww Business!"
She goes out there, and handles it like a pro. She is every bit the aloof hipster who does not care what you think; all that other stuff is submerged. You'd need to be an old pro like myself to see what's really going on with her. Meanwhile outside, while she is squarely inside, someone is breaking the windows, and not stealing anything, of five cars.
I would not find that out until later. One of the cars belonged to another guests, Poison Waters: a big black drag queen. I sit right on down next to Poison, before I find that person boring, and he immediately asserts, "Well, I'm glad you feel so confident as to sit down next to a lady without asking permission."
And I reply, "Pardon me. Do you mind if I sit down next to you on this couch that I carried out here on my back?"
Poison laughs, Tall n' Frosty laughs, everybody laughs. I tell Poison the story from last week, with the "I'm used to takin' it the hard way," punch line. He says, "Do you always say that sort of thing to black men in a dress?"
So I go over to Slow Bar, where all the Peoples from the big show go. They're one of our sponsors, though this does not get us free drinks, which I feel it should. In any case, I run into one of my friends there, and she tells me that Keisheimer and her boyfriend are sitting nearby, and we should go sit with them. Boyfriend's name is 'Keno', or something. He and I talk endlessly about the many contingencies that come with being a waiter in some stupid restaurant. I can relate, baby, I can...
Then Keisheimer tells me how she's been regaling the rest of the table with tales of how awesome I am, being the only person that even fucking spoke to her at that thing. I neglect to tell her that my own boss, minutes before, had described her as "a toad" (and referred to her the next day as "a turd"). We git to talking, and point out that sometimes...Shucks, I kinda like to write things too...
Turns out they need a restaurant reviewer at the Merc, and it looks like I might be their guy. Mind you, I had to put up with her screaming/questioning me, "What's yer favorite restaurant? What's yer second favorite restaurant? I'm gonna be yer boss!"
Yup, all the shyness was gone. She is a person who often refers to herself in the public pages of the medium-sized city weekly she works for as a complete drunk. She also does so in person, and now I was getting to see the not-so-terribly shy aspect of her that I strongly suspected was there.
The time came, and the bar wanted us to leave. We stepped outside, and one of their crew called a cab. I was asked where I was going, and I said that I was going the ten blocks west that would take me home. I wonder what would have happened had I gone with them, because...
A cab pulls up, way too fast even for bar-close. A bunch of people from My Fuckin' Pal, right next door, start to get in, because they're clearly the ones who really called it. Keisheimer looks over at them and screams, "EX-CUSE ME? EX-CUUUUSE ME!" Then she confronts them, a cabload of drunks at two-thirty in the morning, accuses them of stealing Her cab. Words are exchanged, and I see her punch this guy in the face through the open window (for the record, she denies this, and for the record, I can't trust my memory on this one). Keno is just standing there shaking his head and laughing, as if to say, "Oh, you incorrigible scamp," or perhaps, "What kind of nightmare did I fuck my way into this time?"
Right about that time, the cab ahead of us sped away, and the cab my pals had called actually arrived. It was hugs all around, and I was left with these two weird strangers who had been standing there. We spoke a while about my choice of cigarette, and I observed that I was very cold, and wanted to go home.
I'm still listening to that mix. The most recent song was Throwing Muses' 'Fish', which has the fantastic line, "Lonely is as lonely does/lonely is an eyesore/the feeling describes itself..."
In any case, I also learned that I definitely do not have prostate cancer today (for any of you trying to call, I'm sorry; I had a man's finger up my ass), on my first visit to a real live health care professional in six years. I also learned that yes, I'm going to review at least one restaurant for that paper, and it happens to be my favorite one, as per my conversation with that silly, drunk, shy/not so damn shy Keisheimer the other evening.
Yeah, I know, "And then, on the eve of their first U.S. tour in '80, the author of those lines hung himself..." Yeah yeah...
I've been engaged in another one of those Exit Interview things, for the earlier part of the eve, with the lady who most recently has engaged me. It would seem, as always, that it is nothing that I did; I'm great, I'm told. No, no it's really that the woman who ends up with me one day will be the luckiest woman in the world, if she can give as good as I can...Bleah. People and their things. Personally, I had thought that the whole thing was just a good, uncomplicated situation, and if anything, she was the one who seemed to be falling into it too fast, which then caused her to spook and run.
Hard to say. That's Other People for you, and it does not do at all to try to suss their motives too deeply. I don't know why I'm even sharing this with you, O Notebook that Other People can read. What I really wanna talk about is Keisheimer.
We were getting ready to tape the teevee show the other evening, and I noticed that there was a reporter, with photog in tow, who seemed to be interviewing people on the show. "Great. There'll be a buncha great pictures of us standing around, drinking beer," I said. She was talking to Famous when I walked in.
"Well, like Rich here," he said, "He got a writing credit on last week's show, for a couple of jokes. And what's yer real title?"
"Uh, everything and nothing. 'Production Assistant'? 'Properties Manager'? I wait for things to go wrong, and then I fix them?"
What needed fixing that evening was Keisheimer. She is one of the editors on the paper that the aforementioned interviewer was from. No one was talking to her, which is something that just doesn't happen to The Talent on that show. She was sitting there, looking like every damned aloof hipster you've seen in your life: They're too Cool for You. But I know these people; I've been mistaken for them myself, once or twice, and I know that what most of them have going on is a crippling shyness, left over from being a weirdo, and largely ignored, when not taunted. It causes you, The Weirdo, to develop defense mechanisms along the lines of, "Well, why would I want lameasses like yourself to be my friend anyway? If that's all you got in the way of options, guess I'm taking No Friends, Bob." So you see. Someone like that moves to a weirdly provincial town that nonetheless has a vibrant scene (like Potland)(sic), becomes one of the de facto arbiters of taste, and is a big old drunk weirdo...Yeah, I don't think I'd try to act like everybody's buddy, either.
We had a fantastic time there, talking. I found out a number of interesting things, including why she was on the show at all. Our producer, German Foreign Minister Joschka Fischer, had felt the need, while drunk recently, to destroy one of her car's windows (with his head? did I really hear that?). In lieu of payment for the broken window (after she chased his ass down, I might add), he said something in the neighborhood of "Wanna be on teevee?", and next thing you know, she is.
After we exhaust the many topics worthy of discussion, Keisheimer points out that she actually is cripplingly shy, and has no idea what to do once she's out there in front of the cameras. I hasten to point out that almost nobody watches this show, and furthermore that all she needs to do is sit out there and let Famous be funny, indeed he would be deeply offended if anyone was even attempting to be funnier than him. Show biz types. As I like to say, at the beginning of each show as a good luck intonation: "There's Plen-ty of business like Showww Business!"
She goes out there, and handles it like a pro. She is every bit the aloof hipster who does not care what you think; all that other stuff is submerged. You'd need to be an old pro like myself to see what's really going on with her. Meanwhile outside, while she is squarely inside, someone is breaking the windows, and not stealing anything, of five cars.
I would not find that out until later. One of the cars belonged to another guests, Poison Waters: a big black drag queen. I sit right on down next to Poison, before I find that person boring, and he immediately asserts, "Well, I'm glad you feel so confident as to sit down next to a lady without asking permission."
And I reply, "Pardon me. Do you mind if I sit down next to you on this couch that I carried out here on my back?"
Poison laughs, Tall n' Frosty laughs, everybody laughs. I tell Poison the story from last week, with the "I'm used to takin' it the hard way," punch line. He says, "Do you always say that sort of thing to black men in a dress?"
So I go over to Slow Bar, where all the Peoples from the big show go. They're one of our sponsors, though this does not get us free drinks, which I feel it should. In any case, I run into one of my friends there, and she tells me that Keisheimer and her boyfriend are sitting nearby, and we should go sit with them. Boyfriend's name is 'Keno', or something. He and I talk endlessly about the many contingencies that come with being a waiter in some stupid restaurant. I can relate, baby, I can...
Then Keisheimer tells me how she's been regaling the rest of the table with tales of how awesome I am, being the only person that even fucking spoke to her at that thing. I neglect to tell her that my own boss, minutes before, had described her as "a toad" (and referred to her the next day as "a turd"). We git to talking, and point out that sometimes...Shucks, I kinda like to write things too...
Turns out they need a restaurant reviewer at the Merc, and it looks like I might be their guy. Mind you, I had to put up with her screaming/questioning me, "What's yer favorite restaurant? What's yer second favorite restaurant? I'm gonna be yer boss!"
Yup, all the shyness was gone. She is a person who often refers to herself in the public pages of the medium-sized city weekly she works for as a complete drunk. She also does so in person, and now I was getting to see the not-so-terribly shy aspect of her that I strongly suspected was there.
The time came, and the bar wanted us to leave. We stepped outside, and one of their crew called a cab. I was asked where I was going, and I said that I was going the ten blocks west that would take me home. I wonder what would have happened had I gone with them, because...
A cab pulls up, way too fast even for bar-close. A bunch of people from My Fuckin' Pal, right next door, start to get in, because they're clearly the ones who really called it. Keisheimer looks over at them and screams, "EX-CUSE ME? EX-CUUUUSE ME!" Then she confronts them, a cabload of drunks at two-thirty in the morning, accuses them of stealing Her cab. Words are exchanged, and I see her punch this guy in the face through the open window (for the record, she denies this, and for the record, I can't trust my memory on this one). Keno is just standing there shaking his head and laughing, as if to say, "Oh, you incorrigible scamp," or perhaps, "What kind of nightmare did I fuck my way into this time?"
Right about that time, the cab ahead of us sped away, and the cab my pals had called actually arrived. It was hugs all around, and I was left with these two weird strangers who had been standing there. We spoke a while about my choice of cigarette, and I observed that I was very cold, and wanted to go home.
I'm still listening to that mix. The most recent song was Throwing Muses' 'Fish', which has the fantastic line, "Lonely is as lonely does/lonely is an eyesore/the feeling describes itself..."
In any case, I also learned that I definitely do not have prostate cancer today (for any of you trying to call, I'm sorry; I had a man's finger up my ass), on my first visit to a real live health care professional in six years. I also learned that yes, I'm going to review at least one restaurant for that paper, and it happens to be my favorite one, as per my conversation with that silly, drunk, shy/not so damn shy Keisheimer the other evening.
Labels: my personals
posted by rich bachelor | 8:32 PM
1 Comments:
You know I never did find out what those birds were called. I never saw bird that looked so unusual that I might notice it. And I really didn't want to spend too much time talking to these clowns anyway. They really weren't all that friendly.
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