Thursday, August 30, 2007

fixx om 1 dot finnegans friend

Nodal Nim did play tunes at Fixx Coffee Bar this prior evening. A Greenpeacer named Dan-O did host, played guitar, invited goodtimes. In addition to my frabjous self, I saw some guitarists, a djembist, &, wonderfullest of all, a sitar player. All did doings immeasurably. I did:

.. 25% mor monstr
.. cal it Home
.. 5 songs of fish

This place did I enjoy: persons & friends listened intently as I played; plum oolong tea appealed to my buds.


On th trainride home, wondermagickal togetherhappenings did manifest. It began as I sat on my mandolincase whilst waiting for th train & reading from Finnegans Wake, James Joyce's masterwork in dreamlanguage non-linear holistic complexity. I enjoy partaking of said tome by opening to random pages & reading a few sentences, a paragraph or two, maybe, then opening to a new random page et cetera. I have not yet begun a cover-to-cover reading, altho I intend to when time ripens.

So as I sat with book, th wind blew pages, turning them randomly for me. Rather than grip th pages to prevent their turning, I enjoyed having th wind make my anti-decisions. So there I sat at th terminal, reading a book whose pages flapped in th wind, grinning & not seeming to mind.

A fellow (I estimate 32 years of age, thin, redheaded, only somewhat inebriated), when I glanced his way, handed me a Thing. I identified said Thing as a worn playing card, a two of hearts, actually, with an image of Elvis Presley on th front & back. Th fellow's explanation: "Bookmark." I thanked fellow with a grin, stuck th "bookmark" between some pages near th back of th book (sticking up so I could see it in peripheral vision), & continued doing exactly what I had been doing, amused that a confounded fellow found it appropriate to intercede in my peculiar reading practice.

I do wonder what he thought, seeing me do this. (John Cage might understand.)

So we rode th train together, & in th car, since no wind found its way to my book, I flipped th pages myself again, continuing to let th bookmark sit in its place. Th fellow sat not far away. We both got off at th Irving Park stop (Brown Line "L"), & at th bottom of th stairs:

HE: [Evidently amused.] Your bag is unzipped.

I: [Continuing to walk, not surprised or disturbed by th news.] Thanks!

HE: Wait, let me get it.

[I stop & th fellow begins to zip up a pocket on my bookbag.]

HE: I'm putting these matches in your bag. They're from my restaurant - you should come in sometime. [Drops in matches & finishes th zip.] I used to do this in grade school on purpose to make friends.

I: [With a chuckle.] Thanks again!

He passed me & turned right out of th station - I turned left. Only as he passed did I smell a touch of alcohol on him. (Yes, most people returning from a night out at 11:00 would have had a few beers - just plum oolong for me.) He found my private antics amusing, it would seem, & he found himself intrigued enough to invite me to his restaurant. I wonder what overall impression he got of me, how he explained me to himself. I felt elated by th whole strange thing (altho I didn't understand why), & I laughed & grinned all th way home & on & off until sleep overtook me.

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