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2000-11-29

Mystical Man

Busy times, busy times. A very good friend of mine leaves for Amsterdam today. I�ve never been to Europe, but I plan to go, and when I do, the Must See�s on my list are Rome, Amsterdam, Paris, and anywhere in Ireland. I�m going to have to set a goal and get my ass over there. In the meantime, I�ll miss my friend while he�s gone and await the stories he will have to tell.

I went to a coffee shop last night with a friend to hear poetry. God, it�s been a while since I�ve done that. I used to read every week in LA, and hear other people read as often as I could (at least once a week). It�s seems like forever since I�ve been exposed to that kind of creativity. It was awesome to see and hear, and I find myself inspired and motivated to start writing poetry again for the first time in months.

After the readings, I was standing outside with my friend; we were chatting with an intriguing man. Intriguing, because he was carrying a 40 oz. beer in a paper bag, spoke with slurred speech; yet was exceptionally articulate, had a vocabulary that rivals mine, and was dressed in expensive brand name clothing, with a laptop and camera over his shoulder. Tall, must have been at least 6�2�, Black, chin-length dreads kept tame under a ski-cap, bottomed off with fine-lookin� leather shoes. He said he works for Sony Pictures in NY, was in LA visiting his brother, and in San Diego for a few days. At first, I thought, yeah, this drunk has quite a story. But as I listened to him speak, I realized that those were just my judgements, and based on how this man was dressed, how he spoke, and the equipment he had, despite the fact that he was obviously drunk, he must have been telling the truth.

I found myself drawn into his conversation (probably because he also spoke French, Spanish, and a little German), following his words as an entomologist would follow a rare butterfly. As the fog rolled in around us, now 11pm or so, the evening looked as mystical as it felt to meet this well-traveled, educated man, randomly as we were walking home from the coffee shop. Charming, quick-witted stranger, who we spoke with for half-an-hour before we left him to the rest of his bottle.

As we were walking away, I received a great compliment. This guy in a red shirt and baseball cap who had been inside during the poetry tapped me on the shoulder and asked if he could have a word. I stepped aside with him, and he said, �Listen, I don�t know if that�s your man or anything, and I didn�t want to be rude. But I just had to tell you that I think you�re very beautiful.� My face lit up. I told him thank you, and that he just made my night, which he had. At that, he walked back to join his crew, and I continued on my stroll.

I don�t really have a point, or anything learned. Just a message to myself to remember that people of all walks of life, origin, appearance, or state of sobriety, can be just as amazing as the ones that I am used to seeking out. Overall, it was a really cool night.

-Barbarella

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Mystical Man 2000-11-29 14:26:55 Busy times, busy times. A very good friend of mine leaves for Amsterdam today. I�ve never been to Europe, but I plan to go, and when I do, the Must See�s on my list are Rome, Amsterdam, Paris, and anywhere in Ireland. I�m going to have to set a goal and get my ass over there. In the meantime, I�ll miss my friend while he�s gone and await the stories he will have to tell.

I went to a coffee shop last night with a friend to hear poetry. God, it�s been a while since I�ve done that. I used to read every week in LA, and hear other people read as often as I could (at least once a week). It�s seems like forever since I�ve been exposed to that kind of creativity. It was awesome to see and hear, and I find myself inspired and motivated to start writing poetry again for the first time in months.

After the readings, I was standing outside with my friend; we were chatting with an intriguing man. Intriguing, because he was carrying a 40 oz. beer in a paper bag, spoke with slurred speech; yet was exceptionally articulate, had a vocabulary that rivals mine, and was dressed in expensive brand name clothing, with a laptop and camera over his shoulder. Tall, must have been at least 6�2�, Black, chin-length dreads kept tame under a ski-cap, bottomed off with fine-lookin� leather shoes. He said he works for Sony Pictures in NY, was in LA visiting his brother, and in San Diego for a few days. At first, I thought, yeah, this drunk has quite a story. But as I listened to him speak, I realized that those were just my judgements, and based on how this man was dressed, how he spoke, and the equipment he had, despite the fact that he was obviously drunk, he must have been telling the truth.

I found myself drawn into his conversation (probably because he also spoke French, Spanish, and a little German), following his words as an entomologist would follow a rare butterfly. As the fog rolled in around us, now 11pm or so, the evening looked as mystical as it felt to meet this well-traveled, educated man, randomly as we were walking home from the coffee shop. Charming, quick-witted stranger, who we spoke with for half-an-hour before we left him to the rest of his bottle.

As we were walking away, I received a great compliment. This guy in a red shirt and baseball cap who had been inside during the poetry tapped me on the shoulder and asked if he could have a word. I stepped aside with him, and he said, �Listen, I don�t know if that�s your man or anything, and I didn�t want to be rude. But I just had to tell you that I think you�re very beautiful.� My face lit up. I told him thank you, and that he just made my night, which he had. At that, he walked back to join his crew, and I continued on my stroll.

I don�t really have a point, or anything learned. Just a message to myself to remember that people of all walks of life, origin, appearance, or state of sobriety, can be just as amazing as the ones that I am used to seeking out. Overall, it was a really cool night.