noir (nwär)
adj.
1. Suggestive of danger or violence.
rock-’n'-roll?[rok-uhn-rohl]
noun.
1. a style of popular music that derives in part from blues and folk music and is marked by a heavily accented beat and a simple, repetitive phrase structure.
The Wrong Place (the wrong place)
song.
1. Where he licks lime off the woman of his dreams and understands that nightmares in the sunshine taste like a beer commercial (see Taxi Driver on the beach )
Where he falls in love with a beautiful woman while discussing Don Rickles. Weeks later she says his name to stop him from talking.
- Marlon Brando.
- She didn’t know who Marlon Brando is?
- No. How do you explain Marlon Brando? It’s like, I don’t know, explaining Moses. Parted the red sea, freed his people from bondage, that kind of thing.
- She didn’t know Marlon Brando? And she’s how old?
- 26. Besides that, I made her watch her George Carlin. One of the old HBO shows. Carlin at Carnegie Hall.
- And?
- And she hated it. Thought he was too vulgar.
- She said vulgar?
- Yeah. This girl who has done things I don’t even like to read about says Carlin is too vulgar. Vulgar and angry. She thought he could use some counseling.
- So Miss 12 Step thinks Carlin could use some counseling. What did you say?
- I said he was dead. She didn’t like that either. Truth is if we could drink, maybe we’d get along but being sober with her, its, well I can see why she drank so much.
- You didn’t say that to her did you?
- No. Then I told her the one about the gorilla behind the bar.
- The one where the guy is tending bar and the gorilla …
- Yeah. And the guy says after you hit me with the bat …
- I love that one.
- Me too. She thought it exploited the gorilla. I said it exploited the comedian.
- She has a master’s degree in English right?
- She’s talking about getting her phd. I said I guess when you were cutting class you were really cutting class.
- Laughs?
- It’s over. It wasn’t healthy for either of us.
- I though you said she was special.
- She is special. But she can’t take a fucking joke.
Where he destroys the village in order to save it only to find there’s nowhere left to eat.
When I was young boy no older than Tuesday
I believed in pure joy I believed in fair play.
Everything has changed now. Everything is different.
What used to pass for change then lays scattered on the pavement.
It wasn’t me paved paradise but I have bought and sold it twice.
I never took no ones advice that I couldn’t steal.
The music never really died but many a dark night it tried
its hand at committing suicide but now it longs to heal.
I remember orchards. I remember green fields.
Thinking about that’s torture the memory of dark deals.
Everything’s gone condo. Everything’s gone Wal-Mart.
A gremlin tagged with bondo is what passes now for high art.
There’s key chains for sobriety but nothing for society
when it decides to cop a plea for its modern crimes.
It’s the money it’s the shame. It’s the players it’s the game.
Me I tend to lay the blame on gravity and time.
I’ll get back to you by sunrise no later than Thursday.
When I don’t believe my own lies I wonder what my kids say.
Would they send a shiver to a man who can’t be sutured
who sold them down the river to buy them a better future.
I’ve never been to paradise that couldn’t live on beans and rice
peppered with a little spice and a glass of wine.
The music never really died but many a dumb day it lied
about its attempt to slow the tide of gravity and time.
Where he finally admits he likes the wounded birds best
“So Mr. Smith was his real name?”
“Yeah. He wanted me to find his daughter.”
“And?”
“I found her.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“Let me guess. Beautiful. Stained. Hopefully over 18.”
“I don’t see why you … Ok. She’s all those things, but so what? She’s cool. I mean she’s …”
“Don’t say it. What she into? Cutting? Abortion? Miscarriages? Coke and smoke?”
“She might have been. She’s older now. You make it sound so cold.”
“It’s just the usual litany with you. If she’s over those and her old man wanted you to find her she must be into worse.”
“She was into worse. Now she’s not. Now she’s –“
“Into you.”
“Well. Yeah. What?”
“The sane ones leave you and the crazy ones, hell, they leave you too. You always did like a project.”
“She’s a woman, not a project.”
“From your lips. You only seem to like the damaged ones. A real fixer upper. What’s this “woman’s” story? Bad childhood. Daddy issues?”
“All that. But that’s just history isn’t it? There’s more to a life then a list of misdeeds and pain. You always see the worst in people. She’s got a masters in English.”
“That would do it. Ok. I’ll bite. What makes this gal so special?”
“I don’t know. Everything I guess. Did I tell you she cooks? You got to try her chicken noodle.”
Where he sees himself in his hot and sour soup and then he sees her. Should he chase her or finish his tea?
The receptionist is blasting a live version of Rocket Man. ‘Mars ain’t no place to raise your kids. In fact it’s cold as hell’.
Man I could go for some miso soup. Umami. There’s no word in the English language to describe it. Kind of like her. I ran into her and her new boyfriend in the square and it was raining like a damn movie. I’m surprised it wasn’t black and white outside.
Maybe I should look into him. See if he’s kosher. Nah – I got a job right here.
What does this dude want from me? Is it his wife? His kids? Blackmail? A rough up job? Life is growing more Hollywood everyday. I should get myself a fedora, it’s expected.
What went wrong? I keep hearing fireworks, seeing kisses, and the ground before it hits my head. It’s just Chinatown Jake.
Great. A country version of ‘Danny’s Song’. My phone died and the only magazines are old Sport’s Illustrated. Check it out. Tiger was still married. What kind of office is this?
“Mr. Smith will see you now .” Mr. Smith?
It better be Jimmy Stewart or at least Brad Pitt. Another minute and I’m gonna hear ‘You’re So Vain’ probably sung by Alan Jackson, I swear to god.
What is she doing now? It’s almost Chinese New Year. It’s Year of the Dragon. Her new man kind of looks like Mickey Rourke. More ‘The Pope of Greenwich Village’ then ‘The Wrestler’. Good for her.
Games and fortunes and New York nights. Lying to myself, to her, to each other. Too much, man. Too much. It’s for the best right?
No. Probably not .
Mr. Smith’s handshake just about broke my freaking hand. That’s it. I’m definitely getting a hat.
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