I hate my response to hyper people. I chill RIGHT out. It makes me feel dead and uncharismatic and I just become the deadpan straight guy. Not as much fun as when I get to be the hyper person.
This morning I dreamt of hijacking Panera trucks. I know they probably are just carrying the raw supplies and most of it’s probably not even in an edible form, but I dream that it’s filled to the brim with their delicious sandwiches premade and waiting for me, next to huge steaming vats of their hot, delicious soup. Passing a Panera truck first thing in the morning simply guarantees that I shall be dreaming of them for the rest of the day. Alas – no Panera stands in my path this sunshiny Tuesday.
But by midafternoon I was elbow deep in the arduous task of setting up and tuning a 16-string zheng from China, battling a pentatonic tuning, decades-old strings and frozing tuning pegs.
I was triumphant, but at that point we had passionate, excited customers that I was no longer equipped to handle. From the uber-cool bass player to the insane samba woman who bought (and played in the store) a tri-tone samba whistle to the 8-year-old who was yelling her desire of a GUITAR no a DRUM no THAT Daddeeeeeee!!!! All of them were actually quite charming – even the little girl – but I had no energy left to give them.
Wandering Baltimore City you run across a lot of statues. Alot of the statues are nekkid. And the nekkid ones clearly show signs of molestation. These poor ladies need to invest in some bronze bras or something so that they don’t get so enthusiastically and consistantly… polished.. Huh. Who knew THAT was a job? After a day at the zoo, but before we went to the Strand Theatre to see my friend Amelia’s play “The Mai”, Kristen and I stopped in Fells Point for sushi. We saw a sign about how these tables were for patrons of the restaurant and NOT for people waiting for the pirate ship, but didn’t really know what they referred to. Later we spotted a Jack Sparrow clone walking up and down the pier and then – well, we turned away for a sec and the “pirate ship” silently appeared behind us. I’m sorry Fearless, but I can’t take you seriously. You motored in with fake sails flaccid, tinny concertina music playing, probably from someone’s iPod and your woodgrain is painted on the presumably fibreglass hull. I know REAL pirates and I hope they come and kick your ass! Or at least come and play concertina at you. I found him this way. I didn’t see who did it. It wasn’t me.
