The lives of others.

I adore the Blend, it's one of my favorite local coffe spots in Portland tucked away on a semi-quiet section of Burnside, our own boulavard of broken dreams. While sitting outside with Taylor having a coffee, typing away at an issue of Godless, our comic, two women came down the sidewalk.
One dressed in pink valour, a striped track suit, pushing a stroller with her big badly permed hair swept up into a ponytail atop her large gourdshaped head. The other woman dressed in a blue track suit slick ponytail, giant hoop earings dangling like wind chimes. They eye us warily as if somehow we're, amidst our americanos and laptop, we pose a threat. A few minutes later they return from their stroll, pink valour on her cellphone gabbing loudly.
"Hey! Hey! Let me talk to grandma! Damn it just let me talk to 'er. Hey Grandma, Do you have any felony warrents out against you right now?" she asks as she walks by. I stop whip out my note book and jot it down, somethings are too good to be fiction.

Alia and I were strolling through Lloyd Center, that vacuuous temple of commerce. We were waiting for Andrew, Alia son who was at the dentist. We were discussing our drab days when over the loud speaker at the soon to be defuct Meir and Frank we hear the words ring out "Mrs. Wong Please Return To China. MRS. WONG PLEASE RETURN TO CHINA." I look at Alia with alarm, she's inturn staring back at me with utter disbelief . That seems harsh we both thought returning Mrs. Wong to China....wonder what she did...oh fuck, yeah China...china as in plates... oh never mind then.

While working at a coporate video store many years ago that fired me for being gay and shall remain nameless (Hollywood Video, NE BROADWAY PORTLAND OREGON) I'm over it and it's another story all togather. One afternoon in walks an grandmother dressed in a powderpuff pink track suit (whats with the tracksuits???) and her granddaughter who was about three years old. She was just dropping off some DVDs when the child, dressed ina sparkling pink leotard and tutu with fairy wings spots the prepackaged cotton candy (vile but whatever she's three) "I wants some candy." she more or less mutteres to which her Grandmother replies. "ughn-uh honey, don't you want to able to fit into your princess out fit?".
Somewhere Karen Carpenter is crying as a future cutter is born.

No comments: