Thursday, April 5, 2007


Thesis: I have a photo of half of my face (my good side, with my one good eye) on a dating website. I was swapping messages with a Potential there who didn’t have a photo posted. But then she sent me one unasked, with the note “I’ve attached my picture in case that’s important to you.” [Turns out she’s what the kids call a hottie, with quite the mischievous smile.] I returned the favor of a real photo, and since then she hasn’t gotten back in touch with me. A clear case of importance.

Antithesis: I called the Cooperator and left a message inviting her to my Sunday dinner. She called back a few minutes later. She was talking to somebody in a crowd. When I got her attention, she wanted to know if I was in Union Hall (a bar). “Uh, no,” I said, “I’m at home; at home in Brooklyn.” She said, “You’re not in Brooklyn?” Wait a minute, Who was on first? She was in the bar and it was tremendously noisy, so she couldn’t hear a word I said. "John," she said, "let me get somewhere where it's not so loud." John, Gentle Readers, isn’t my name. John was a friend who had evidently just called her and invited her to hear some band he was promoting at Union Hall… you’ll remember the place, it’s where Whom hangs out (or is that What? I always get them confused.) She apologized profusely and said she’d get her thoughts back together and call me back. Sounds like her thoughts are far and wide, like over the river and through the trees, and will need more than the dinner bell to bring them back alive.

Synthesis: You know, I haven't been called "John" since the time in that motel room when I... o, never mind.


scrappy girl said...

The only difference between comdey and tragedy is when the story ends.

A Brooklyn Bachelor said...

And how many bodies are piled up on stage.