Red Monday

Listen:
The agent was just talking, he looked at me, “You know, I met Carlos Santana one time, he was here, had one a (some color) suit, big hat. That was cool.”

I nodded.

“Cat Scratch Fever was here, too,” he appraised me, “had on leather pants. I’m not kidding, a snakeskin looking hat and all. He was cool.”

“Got my picture taken – what’s his name – the guy who got shot in The Godfather, if I hadn’t said it, I could tell you his name. Right between the eyes.”

Lost in SoHo:
With Sister. Then it happened, she said, “This way, I recognize that store,” and I suggested she was wrong.

She did recognize the store; it was an arts’ supply store. Direction was off, though. We were wandering back from running over to the Algerian Coffee Shop (since 1887). Very cool, very entertaining store. A kind of coffee lover paradise for me. I just stood and gaped.

However, she finally produced a map, and we navigated homeward.

“Say it,” I said.

“You were right.” She muttered.

“Please, please, say it again?”

“You were right. You were right, you were right. Don’t get used to this.”

Doubt I will.

However, we are both quite directionally impaired; it’s genetic.

Tagged as: London