Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Do What is Best for You
A friend of mine is out of town right now. He asked me to take his wife to the Virgin Mega store last night at midnight so she could get two copies of the new Ben Folds album that came with a wristband that would allow her to get his autograph and free admission to a concert he was putting on Thursday. His reasoning for asking me was that two people needed to go so they would both have wristbands when they attended the concert; I believe my large stature, the late night timing of the event, and the safety of his wife all also played into the decision to ask me.
I remember listening to Ben Folds Five a few years ago when they had a pop song that was tearing up the radio. The piano was interesting and the sound had something to it but overall it didn’t really stick in my head. But she was a fanatic.
When I asked what kind of music she listened to I was treated to a long and thoughtful response about Ben Folds and Ben Folds Five. It might have been the moment but what I got out of her response was that Ben Folds was about the only music that she really, really liked. She mentioned a few other bands but mostly it seemed she was intent on describing to me how she had been a fan through thick and thin all the way from the beginning. I believed her. She seemed to be really into his music.
In a line of a few hundred people we waited and chatted about life and movies, which is about all there is to talk about in Hollywood. She was an interesting, smart, and engaging person to talk to. Even though it was midnight and I had class the next morning at 9:30 I did not mind one second that I spent taking her to go get the wristbands. Her passion for the music and Mr. Folds himself was enough to make me feel good about my involvement in the process.
It was also very interesting to hear another person talk about their favorite musician. I talk to people all the time about who my favorite bands and singers are and try to convey their sense of importance to me to the person listening. Being in the reverse situation I remembered when, as a younger buck, Brad-lay used to talk to me about music and bands and it was way above my head. He would talk about the smoothness of the music and how in tune the different members of bands were. As we would listen to cd’s that he would play for me he would talk about hearing one instrument at a time and listening for certain things. I could barely even grasp the idea that there was so much to music; let alone how to discern these things for myself.
Slowly but surely my musical taste and understanding has grown. That has a lot to do with the fact that four of my good friends have a love for music and a blossoming band called the Rusty Trombones that I proudly claim to be a fan of from the very beginning. It made me think if a few years from now I would be explaining to some friend helping me with a favor that I had been a Trombone fan from way back when they filled the land of lakes with the sounds of rock and roll.
Anyway. On the way to picking up my friends wife I stopped at a gas station. She was a person that I was hoping to impress, not at all in a steal-a-wife kind of way; instead in an I had respect for her and wanted her to have respect for me kind of way. So I cleaned the side of my car that I would be letting her in on with paper towels and some Armor-All cleansing spray. I also tossed a new car scent tree in the backseat to make sure that my car didn’t smell like a nasty college student. While I was washing the windows I heard a man screaming, at first his words were not clear, just his urgency. The second time he screamed I heard what he was saying, “My car is on fire, RUN, get away from the gas station.”
I looked around and to my horror at the other side of the pump I was using a man was pushing a small two-door car away from the pump and into the street. The hood of his car was open but the engine was not visible because it was completely overtaken by flames. I was horrified. “You are going to die, Get away from the Gas Station it is going to blow up.” He said, as he looked right in my eyes. For maybe a half a second I was frozen. It was then that I saw that the gas pump was still in the tank of his car as the car was gaining speed on its exit from the station.
Something inside of me that I was not and am not aware of sprang into action. I ran forward and pulled the pump out of the car and threw it in the opposite direction of the burning car. I ran back to my car and grabbed the bottle of water I had just bought and took off again for the flaming car that was now moving into the intersection of Sunset Blvd. and Fairfax Ave. I poured the entire contents of the bottle onto the engine of the car just before a man from inside the station came behind me and doused the flaming engine with a fire extinguisher.
All of this happened in less than 30 seconds. It was probably the closest I have ever been dying and hopefully the closest I ever come until it is my turn. We pushed the man’s car back into a parking lot of the gas station. I offered him my cell phone, which he used to call and wake up a buddy to come and help him out.
I went back to my car a bit shook up and finished cleaning my windows. Then I climbed in my car, wished the guy good luck, and headed to pick up my friends wife and take her to get wristbands for the Ben Folds concert.
Original form, unedited. Peanut Butter Honey
Monday, August 30, 2010
Friday, August 27, 2010
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Monday, August 23, 2010
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Friday, August 20, 2010
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
"I mean, it gets worse. I know your eyes are not garbage cans, but somehow I feel it is my duty to share with you the depths of depravity some of our long-lost brothers have fallen to. Just so you know there are good perverts and bad perverts; like snowflakes, no two are the same."John Waters (born April 22, 1946) is an American filmmaker, actor, writer, journalist, visual artist and art collector, who rose to fame in the early 1970s for his transgressive cult films.