First, it didn’t happen. Or, it probably didn’t happen. When dealing with Madame, one doesn’t know for sure. You see, Madame has this ability to make you wonder if you (meaning me)…or, in this case, I am all here or all there.
I exchanged Emails with Madame this AM. I’m in Paris and she’s in one of those straight laced New England states. I’m having my car fixed, a while back, in one of those states and I’m waiting in the sitting area, standing.
That’s Madame’s influence. Everything must be literally and provably true in all details. I, on the other hand, believe in a more generalized version of “Truthiness”. It tends to keep the conversation moving.
Meanwhile, Madame can say any goddamned thing she wants and if I so much as say “boo” she goes into one of those tiny type email tirades that I have no concept of truth, beauty, love and freedom and, furthermore, would probably “stink up the joint” in bed if it ever came to that. (That amuses the hell out of me…not because it isn’t true…but because that’s how my father would describe a sports team that played really badly…’they stunk up the joint.”).
Furthermore, my continued existence on the planet is a burden to humanity of which she is a part and me not at all. And, the fact that I continue to call my half-assed blog a website is further evidence that I am a pompous self-centered MFer and should be stuffed in a rusty woodchipper forthwith.
(Now, those of you who lack a pure heart may interpret MFer as an obscenity…not necessarily so. I happen to have played way too much poker in California, at a place called the Commerce Club. The demographics of the Club on any given night would be about 50% Asian. When something bad happened to some of the Asian players in a poker game they would sometimes exclaim “Mother Father Mother Father”…so, judge not lest ye be judged.)
Hey, so the lady has strong views, that doesn’t mean she’s a bad person. And, if she is a bad person, and has a dynamite body, who gives a shit…certainly not me. So, it appears as though I’ve set up the perfect lose, lose, lose situation…also known as the Irish Trifecta.
Back to the waiting area sitting room where I’m standing in the doorway blocking the entrance and exit (something I love to do because I love to hear people say “excuse me”…I usually don’t tell people this but I’m a bit of a recluse with spasms of gregariousness.)
Now, there are some jurisdictions where one, hoping to hear people say “excuse me” can stand and others where it’s less wise. Jurisdictions where half the population wears “give peace a chance” buttons and the other half are birdwatchers are cool. Places where they have pictures of Tony Spilotro (RIP) and Sonny Barger placed in positions of honor and everybody knows what the expression “Joey got clipped” means. (It has nothing to do with a barber shop and everything to do with a cemetery).
I’m in a very safe Jurisdiction ready to take control of the room with clever repartee the moment someone says “excuse me” and, all of a sudden, I feel this presence behind me. It’s a woman about 6′ FT dressed in Biker Bar Chic, seriously good accoutrements barely contained in a contraption that really could not honestly be described as clothing…plus wearing combat boots.
Now, I’m Catholic. We don’t handle tall women with good bodies (accoutrements) in combat boots well. And, at least speaking for myself, we believe the following five things about sex: 1. It’s very bad. 2.Woody Allen nailed it when somebody asked him when was the last time he had sex and he said…”you mean with another person?” 3. If you don’t think sex is bad, you’re not doing it right. 4. If you don’t have enough sex you end up with a bad memory. 5. I forget the fifth one.
I look at this individual and I start to move my mouth, jaw, cheeks, tongue, vocal cords, bowels…and nothing happens…at least in terms of speaking. About the other, the less said, the better.
Somehow, I find out where she works. I go there…dumb…weak…pathetic. Thought occurs…hara-kiri? Too extreme. Get out of Dodge? Better. I think I’m out before she’s aware I’m there. Run past multiple state boundaries. Tear meniscus…repair with dental floss and nail clipper…keep running until I see sign “Welcome To Dodge City”.
Travel another long distance for specific purpose of getting THE right card to send to Madame enclosing card to this (WW) web site. Similar plan worked once, during my happily married days when I was trying to rekindle an affair with a stripper at the Silver Slipper in DC way before WW existed.
Remember, Fanny Foxx…Wilbur Mills…Silver Slipper? Same time, same place, different guy (Me not Wilbur) different lady. Sent my girlfriend at the time, a Monet Card.
Not meaning to be smug (knowing God will punish my sorry ass if I am), the card was the correct thing to do.
So, I pick up a Van Gogh card at the MET in NYC. Would have much preferred a Monet…possibly even a Hopper who reminds me of my home town. To make a long story short (“Too late” as my friend Joe Morro likes to say) my card plus my generalized truthiness contained therein get us in communication which means…who knows…
Paris makes me crazy. The stunning beauty. The reserve (no “hey buddy”)…every interaction a bit of a flirtation. Beautiful black women police with elegant manners…”take me into custody…Please!” The interracial couples: more often young white guys with young black women. Book stores: sometimes three per block.
Notre Dame, I start my day there in the AM. I see the same two drunks semi passed out against a building on the way back to my hotel, which is a story in its own right. The drunks look around forty years old…former military. They stand when I go by. I salute…they salute…it’s out of this freaking world…I love those guys. Haven’t seen them in a couple of days. They’ve never asked me for money. I gotta do the right thing with these guys before I go.
I tell my friend, Madame, she has seeped into my DNA…that’s Paris. That’s Madame.
The quote that keeps going through my mind is from Dr. Earle, a Las Vegas Poker Player from a while back… “Of all the Things I’ve Lost, I Miss My Mind The Most.”
I Love This Place. I’ll get a little sanity some other time. Right now, I’m in Paris.
Comments are welcome at tomc[at]wednesdayswars[dot]com. Comments will be addressed in subsequent posts.