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pirate radio Seventy-six degrees in my little apartment. This, despite the flung-open windows, the roaring fans, the disabled heater. The heat is urging me to go outside, where at least there’s a sea breeze and a coast road to go tearing along. And yet here I sit. I contemplated driving into town to catch a showing of Black Snake Moan. It’s too hot to get up. Maybe tonight, when the sun drops. Yesterday I bought myself a fiddle. I don’t have high hopes for mastery, but I’ll settle for being able to saw out a few notes here and there. If after a few months I can blunder my way through the solos from that old George Strait song, “Amarillo by Morning,” I’ll be a contented fellow. I suspect that won’t be as easy as I’ve convinced myself it is. Three years ago I started writing and sharing the Eleanor sketches on this site. I just thought I’d mention that. The novel is still stalled, with little progress made since my minor writing retreat last fall. But I am ever preparing for returning to it; every word of every book about theology and science jogs my brain into forming, or trying to form, a clear opinion. This book will, I think, take a fearsome amount of research and prolonged contemplation. You know how they say that for every hour of dancing you should practice for five? (Well, okay, maybe you don’t. But they do.) I suspect the ratio of writing-to-researching, for ELEANOR, is going to be much larger than that. On Saturday I figured it was time to try this haircut thing that everybody keeps talking about. I’m all, you mean I don’t have to shave my head every time my hair gets long enough to annoy me? Why didn’t anybody tell me this before? So I dropped by a little place on Main Street, and the cute blonde inside asked me to come back in twenty minutes. I went for a walk, then came back, and she took me to the back for a shampoo. I was there for a half-hour or so, and the entire time she’s carrying on this playful conversation with me. I learn that she’s actually not supposed to be working that day, that she just came in to color some woman’s hair, but she saw me and thought she’d stick around. She asked if I was married. She asked if I had a girlfriend. She told me she didn’t have any plans for her Saturday, that she thought she’d just bike back to this little pond and feed ducks all by herself. I’m a dense motherfucker, but she might as well have had a little radio tower on top of her head with cartoon lightning bolts shooting out of it, her signals were so clear and strong. We had a nice conversation, and I made her laugh a few times, and afterward I asked if I could buy her lunch. “Um, I’ve got a boyfriend,” she says. It should be illegal to operate a radio tower if you haven’t got a license to broadcast. I should levy a fine. Although it is a damn nice haircut.
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March 11th, 2007 at 7:56 pm
It’s also 70 degrees indoors, here. Unpleasant indeed.
March 11th, 2007 at 8:33 pm
[…] This weekend I confirmed my suspicion that all females have gone crazy for the month of March, as my co-worker Jason mentioned today as well. Though the weekend was good. Birthday celebrations on Friday. A viewing of 300 last night, which was amazing. Washing the car. Driving through the coast. The music goes on: […]
March 12th, 2007 at 4:56 am
Good grief. No wonder guys think girls are insane. That’s the stupidest thing I’ve read all week (no offense to the messenger, just the mixed message.)
March 12th, 2007 at 5:39 am
Maybe she was just making polite conversation, while feigning interest in a paying customer. I realize that this might be a shocking realization, since the knee-jerk reaction that all women who don’t want to immediately bone you (and by you, I mean all men who get shot down), after you “wow them” with a few run-of-the-mill jokes, must obviously be crazy and/or insane. Yes, that must be it.
March 12th, 2007 at 5:47 am
No, I’m pretty sure all women want to bone me.
March 12th, 2007 at 10:37 am
Hell, even half the men want to bone you.
and yes 300 was quite, QUITE good.
March 12th, 2007 at 10:46 am
I just get the impression, from perusing your blog, that you might have a penchant for reading a little too deeply into what most people would recognize as normal, meaningless, very commonplace interaction with strangers. You should be especially vary of any “special treatment” you might seem to be receiving from females in specific (legal) service industries, who realize that the size of their tip could be greatly enhanced by simply giggling for a beat or two longer than necessary after a joke’s punch line. Also, hairdressers are notorious for asking about the status of their customers’ love lives (it’s pretty much a hurtful stereotype at this point). All this to say, you might want to ease up on asking girls out/giving them your digits on random pieces of fruit at places that you’d like to frequent again.
March 12th, 2007 at 10:53 am
Nice try. I’d prefer to be “especially vary” of anonymous comments that refuse to accept the truth: that all women want to bone me. Oh, and half the men, like G. said.
March 12th, 2007 at 11:04 am
Ooohh, good typo find. Are you going to devote an entire blog post to how awesome you are at spelling and how stupid your anonymous readers are? I hope so. The cute blonde, however, still has a boyfriend.
March 12th, 2007 at 11:08 am
I know, wasn’t that just hottt. And, um, your mom.
March 12th, 2007 at 11:38 am
I think it’s perfectly fine to ask a girl to lunch or coffee in a place a guy might frequent. When the guy shows up again, it’s proof he’s unharmed by the rejection - because afterall, lunch or coffee is a casual suggestion - not marriage. And when the guy continues to be polite and charming, the girl might want to take him up on the previous offer and ditch the boyfriend she’s got. Boyfriends don’t mean permanence. And girls can change their minds. So where’s the harm?
March 12th, 2007 at 3:07 pm
Hmmm… smells like some old personal shi….
March 12th, 2007 at 4:10 pm
Do geese fit into this equation at all?
March 13th, 2007 at 12:48 pm
Wait wait wait.
You’re saying, “I’ve got a boyfriend,” doesn’t mean “I want to bone you, but I need to see you dance first,” when said in March by a cute blonde?
Since when?