Monday, July 16, 2007

Kwizatz Hatrack

I may get a hat. I've never been a hat person (a headband person, yes. Ask me later) but I think perhaps a panama hat would go well. I met a man recently wearing a panama hat, and commented on it. "Oh no", he said, "it's not a real panama hat. It's an ersatz panama hat from Sebastapol." It was the prettiest sentence I'd heard in a while, and I told him so.
One more story, and then head down for a week or so behind the arrival of many women, or un-men. I have a good friend who recently hung up his apron at Capella for the busy, glamorous lifestyle of an instrument salesman. When I spoke to him last week on the phone, he remarked to me that he'd hurt his back. "Lifting a tuba?" I said. "No," he said, "not lifting a tuba." So I've told everyone I know that he hurt his back lifting a tuba. Just after spreading this story around at work the other day, I passed a customer with a tattoo. A tattoo of what, you might ask? A tattoo of a faceless man, bending over, to pick up a tuba. Swear to fucking god.

No comments: