Insincere Flattery

Ah, bartenders.

Last night I wandered down to the bar in the hotel where I am staying until the flight home on Friday morning.  It has a good happy hour but by 6:30 or so the place is empty, so it was me and the bartender.

A big, friendly, chatty guy.

"So", he asks, "Moving away?"

"Yes, back to Seattle."

"What does your husband think?"

Subtle.

"I'm not married."

"Oh.  Ever have been?"

"No."

"Boyfriend?"

"Nope."

"Oh.  Well any ex-boyfriends?"

Again, subtle.

"Sure.  Countless."

"What?", he asked, surprised.  "What do you mean?"

"As in, I've never counted.  They were people and lovers, not trophies."

He backs up a bit. "Oh, I guess you really get around."

"Well, I haven't been a child in a while.  I'm 46 years old."

"What?"

"I'm 46."

"I don't believe you."

"Who lies about being 46?"

"But you don't look a day over 30, 32 at the most!"

Yeah Right.  Nice try!

Gotta love bartenders.

Have Some Music

Did you know George Gershwin was a bit of a jackass?  Especially to his less-accomplished brother.  

After returning to the States from Australia, I spent a few days in Austin with my friend Chris.  Chris and I had explored Bangkok together, a fascinating and exotic city, one of the most amazing cities I have ever seen.  Then - here we were at home in Texas, as at home as one could be.

We went to his family's country home in the Hill Country outside Austin to spend a quiet summer weekend.  It’s a beautiful old farmhouse with deep porches, plantation-shuttered windows and sweeping views of the peach orchards below.

It was just us, his family still in Bangkok. Everything was covered in sheets, quiet and somehow timeless.  We opened up the windows and the sheets danced a little in the breeze.

We swung slowly on a porch swing, watching the approaching Texas thunderstorm darkening the horizon.  Lightning in the distance, the thunder rolling; doing the count between seeing the lightning and hearing the thunder to know how far away the storm was.

Not a cicada, no tree frog, no bird calls, when a storm like that is coming.

Gershwin poured out the windows.

Smelling the aroma of the storm, the heat, the ripe peaches.

It was a beautiful moment in time.

Accents

Last night was another great night with my excellent friend Laura and others at an Irish pub in Alexandria called O'Connells.

The bartender is a young man named James.  James is not necessarily my type.  Although a very pleasant-looking young man, I tend to like big Alpha men with somewhat mussy curls and - bonus! - beards.

But James is IRISH.

James:  "Ah! hey luv, good t' see ya 'gin.  An' whut can Jehms give you t'nie, m'Lassie?"

Oh James.  Many, many things come to mind.

Let's pretend this very same James is from, oh I don't know, the Bronx.

James:  "Hey how yoo doin.  Lawnggtime No see.  Whadda ya want?"

I want you to bring me a vodka tonic and go away until I need another vodka tonic.

The Brilliance that is Mel Brooks

I'm watching Blazing Saddles, bumped into an airing of it this afternoon.  I had forgotten how excellent that movie is.

The cinematography is nothing to write home about - even with my limited experience there are scenes that in my opinion could have used some art direction.

But the movie (and No, I rarely use the word 'film') is the script.  There are some obvious lines that live today ("We don't need no stinkin' badges!") but the script is peppered with some real gems.

The scene where Gene Wilder (The Waco Kid) and Cleavon Little (Bart, the Sheriff) distract and lure two KKK members to take their robes:

Wilder:  "Hey boys, lookie what I got over here!", as he pulls Little out from behind a rock.

Little:  "Hey - where the white women at?"

.....

Reverend Johnson: "Now I don't have to tell you good folks what's been happening in our beloved little town. Sheriff murdered, crops burned, stores looted, people stampeded, and cattle raped."

....

Little and Wilder go out to the railroad site for information, Little is enthusiastically greeted by his former friend.

To Little:  "Bart!  They said you was hung!"

Little, smugly:  "And they were right."

....

Of course my favorite character is Lili Von Shtupp, played by Madeline Kahn.  She is charged with seducing Bart and of course gets more than, um, she expected.

I saw an interview with Brooks in LA where he discussed censorship and studio creative control. He talked about that scene.  It ends going to black, the sfx of a zipper going down, and Kahn VOs "It's true, it's true!" (or rather, "It's twoo, it's twoo!").  You are probably familiar with the scene.

But apparently there was a line after that one, that Brooks just could not get past the Board.  

Little replies to Kahn, "Honey, you're sucking my elbow."

Mel Brooks, People.  Genius.

Seasonal Buddhism

One thing I will miss about DC is its four seasons.  Who knew there could be four?  After living in LA, Texas and Seattle, I find this novel.

Yes Manhattan has four seasons, but you don't want to live through them.  Ah, the aroma of hot urine that heralds the New York summer!

Last week the cicadas starting singing in the season.  Although there are no more spent robins' eggs to be found, the birds are bickering over whether a second clutch of chicks is worth the effort.

The garden next to my building is flourishing, the tomatoes growing rosy, the little cherry tomatoes already ripe.  I spied a chipmunk on his back legs, inspecting a particularly fruitful cherry tomato plant.  

Deciding on his vegetable prey, he leapt up and grabbed it.  Hanging and kicking, he twisted around crazily until the vine gave up.  He then scampered to a nearby picnic table, jumped up on the bench and had his lunch.

Watching the change of seasons brings home many Buddhist teachings, one being the folly of attachment.

On one level this is a fairly straightforward concept - attachment to inanimate objects that have no real value.  Your car, the Crackberry, even the treasures you've brought home from adventures abroad.

On another, attachment can be folly when it is centered on time or place.  Although cliche, it is true that there is no constant but change.

Relationships come and go, Love waxes and wanes.  The tides come in, the tides go out.  But recognizing, internalizing, that life is fluid can be very liberating.  You may be having the best years of your life but I promise you, you will have dark years.  Just as, when your world is clouded with doubt and loss, there will be joy.

I've done some selfish things lately, and the move home will be difficult, so my heart is more troubled than I'd like.  I hope I will be forgiven for my selfishness, and the difficulties will sort out.

This summer has brought me winter days in many ways, but I know spring will come.