Saturday, June 30, 2007

606 Club

Jean Toussaint’s technique and lyrical sound leave little room for anyone to actually invent a movie scene. The scene, the script, and everything you need is already there. It’s like a coloring book. All you have to do is choose the color. Drift from reality as con men do and let your imagination take over as we take off to the sounds of “2 Miles” 5…4…3…2 \/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/
The star… HA! Who’d you expect? Just after 6:00. Waltz down to the local social spot to grab a sip of someone beautiful. Get comfortable with the bar, put out the vibe. Low lighting, dark wood furniture, small but swanky. I like it. “Bar tender! Vodka Tonic.” Survey the environment. Glance right, lean left and turn. Glance left, and return to center. “Five pounds sir.” 7 o’clock just over my left shoulder sitting on the coach. Distance… might as well be two miles, because I don’t exist… well, not yet. Stunning brunette, green eyes, reading glasses but no book, and heels under 2 inches drinking an apple martini that’s almost empty. Beautiful enough to catch the eye of the females in the room, but no courage from anyone in the room to approach. Only one call, “Bar tender, two apple martini’s.” Best part, no guy. Worst part, she’s not looking for one. My call says it has had a hard day at work, it was too early for a shot and a beer just wouldn’t cut it, not to mention the ‘fuck off bitch’ stamped on her forehead. “Ten pounds sir.” Locked and loaded, time to move. Deep breath. Smooth walk like the smoke lingering in the air. Cool … calm. Prepare for entry. Ten feet……. Five… four…three… “Hello, my names chip.” Turn, pivot, and sit. Shit, beat to the bunch by some schmooze named chip. So close I can smell the ocean coming off the waves of her hair. Status check, I’m good. Patience is a virtue. Take it slow, time is on my side. She can’t take the first guy, no no no. She’s too beautiful to take the first one. She’ll wait for the second or third like a seasoned ball player who lets the first pitch go. Chips stock is falling fast. He’s taking a nosedive off the rejection tree and hitting every branch on the way down. You can see her discord like the sun being blocked out by the moon. Approach, angle, speed, timing, its all off. Like a bad rock song playing for a lady who needs someone smooth. Only one solution, but first we have to deal with our friend Chip here. Just can’t take a hint can he. Don’t blame the guy, blame the girls. They really screwed with this guys head leaving him lost somewhere between taking rejection for face value and taking it as try harder stupid. Knock, knock. Better get that, its opportunity at the door. Every woman loves her savior. Time to go ‘con man’ on the poor sap. Who am I… I know exactly who I am. Walk up, pat him on the back and look her in the eyes and say “Hi honey, how was work?” She gives me a smile from ear to ear, and that was the last we heard of Chip.

samuel... out

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