A Night on the Town

O.K.  I'm trying.  I walked about town one late afternoon with my little Nikon V and tried to shoot as I do when in some big city.  I was sweating through my clothes, of course, for I am known.  I wasn't very good at it, either, not like I am when I am just some anonymous face on the street.  But I am striking out for new territory, right?  I need to make some pictures to stretch and see.  Perhaps it will lead me in other directions.  Here we have the Saturday afternoon lives of the happy middle class in a pretty middle class town.  You can't tell it here, but they are in the process of taking a selfie.  For those who do not live in this town, coming here and spending lots of money on drinks and hors d'oeuvres is better than going to Disney.  They become for the moment one of the fortunate if not beautiful people.  Afterwards it is back to the apartment and preparations for Monday's working as a bank teller.

It is a generalization.  I am a cruel factory foreman with a hillbilly sense of entitlement.  I'm a landowner, goddamnit.  I demand my rights.  Where are my servants?

Last night I went out with a buddy to celebrate a bit.  He invented something that is going to make him a bunch of money.  He already has more than he needs, but whoever has enough, right?  And this is money he is making on his own.  I will tell you about it when the deal is sewn up.  So last night we were on the Boulevard at one of the beautiful places eating at the bar.  Two guys--you have to eat at the bar.  My friend is still girl-crazy and so keeps a wary eye out for any potential love interests.  He is younger than I and likes girls his own age which have always been too old for me, but I am shy and never approach women and now I am less to look at than most, so I've taken to a sort of bemused monastic existence.  Still, I'll look when he points out someone unless I have to turn around on my stool which is too difficult and painful and indiscreet.  I get a kick out of his stories and live vicariously through them without desire.  He dates.  I don't.  But now, after a very long non-dating spell, I am feeling Spring rise in me, the sap flowing, the streams rising.

"I think I am ready to go out with someone again," I said.  I was looking over his shoulder at a woman who attracted me.  She was an old woman of forty or so, not a chicken, and she was with a fellow around her age, I guess, someone who I think I might have known peripherally some time ago.  I'm kidding about her being old.  I just wanted to get your attention.  I've just never dated anyone that age.  But as I say, she had caught my eye.  She was thin and well-dressed in a creative and not a conservative way, her pale and perfectly preserved skin showing between her breasts, her arms long and bare but for a couple of expensive bracelets.  Her hair was curly and platinum which was a lie, I knew, as her eyebrows were dark as were her eyes which looked to have a touch of craziness in them.  The only real age she showed was in her chin and the bottom corners of her mouth, but this was not so much age, I guessed, as it was the result of a lifetime of pulling those corners down into a frown.  Oh, she did not look to be a laughing woman.  I told my friend to look over his shoulder.  He looked back at me.

"What?"

"The blonde."

"Which one?"

"The one next to you."

He looked again.  "Are you kidding?"

"No.  I like the way she looks."

He laughed and shook his head.  "You freak me out.  Her?  She looks like a circus freak.  You're crazy."

I looked at her again.  Really?  I thought her very intriguing and attractive.  She was no beauty, but she looked good to me.

Just then a young blonde came up to ask me if I remembered her.  I tried.  She remembered me.  She was graduating from Country Club College this week.  Well good for you, I said, a smile pasted on my mug, my mind running through its catalogs.  I think she was with her mother and father.  She looked pleased.  I just wanted to say hello, she said.  O.K.  Good luck.

"Who was that?" my friend asked in a happy voice.

"Beats me.  I'll remember her later, I'd guess."

He thought her very attractive and wondered why I didn't say much.

"I'm shy," I said, "you know that."

"Well. . . she came over for a reason."

"I guess she's proud."

She stood with the parents on the other side of the bar.  It was uncomfortable looking at them, so I concentrated on the crazy looking blonde.  Then she was gone.  Then we.

There is no point to this story (unless I want to write for a very long time to get there) other than it takes very little to make my night exciting.  That's the way of it, I guess.

I found some funny things on my camera when I downloaded the pictures.  I didn't know how to use it, I guess.  I have a lot of two second videos.  I thought I was taking stills.  There is a bunch of my mother.  They are hilarious.  There are a couple of me that aren't.  Here is one I took in the car.  I don't know why, but it breaks me up (link).