Star Wars

         
            I stopped in for a bite to eat. The proprietor sat at my table. He looked pretty tired. He said he was sleepy. I told him to go to sleep, that it didn't matter to me. He bowed his head and covered his face with his hands. Then, a costumer came along and wanted to pay for their food, so he got up to take their money.

            I was reading the newspaper while eating my burrito when the boss came back and sat down. He reached for the calender section of the newspaper. 

            No show times yet, he said. I new exactly what he was talking about. The new Star Wars movie. They want to keep it a secret to keep the riff-raff out, I said. The boss is about sixty-some, so I was surprised when he turned into Star Wars geek right before my eyes.  Not quite a geek, but a more of a Star Wars sage, or philosopher. He was talking about the force and the Jedi all but being gone, and Darth Vader being dead. Where is it going? he asked. I was pretending to be knowledgeable. I saw episodes one, two, three, or four, five, six, how ever they call it, but that was a long time ago. I was thinking hmmm, Darth Vader's dead? I kind of remember that. Ahh, they'll probably create new characters, I said. Or, bring back old ones he said. He rattled off a few names that I'd never heard of before. I was in over my head with the conversation. Then, luckily he turned his attention to a picture in the newspaper. It was a Star Wars character holding the new light cyber. That looks like a fire cross I said. Yeah, it's medieval, the boss said. It's not supposed to be medieval, it's suppose to be futuristic. They're going turn the damn thing into Excalibur!

Sign Language

          
          I tried to buy a new tire. I know about an "el cheapo" place that did me right the last time I was there, but this time when I pulled in there were two new guys working. 
          A short stubby fellow asked me what I needed. I told him a new tire. Just then a taller thinner man walked up and asked the short stubby guy what I wanted. He answered in Spanish and the tall guy disappeared. I stood back and waited. There was a bearded hipster also waiting for something, probably a tire. He was leaning up against his late model Volvo with his arms crossed. 
          The tall skinny guy came out from behind the tire rack rolling what looked like a tire for a truck. I don't have a truck. I looked at the bearded hipster and we started to laugh. I'm not sure that's going to fit, the hipster said.  The tall skinny guy was embarrassed and lashed out at the short stubby guy. They exchanged barbs in Spanish, and when the skinny guy was behind the tire rack the short stubby guy looked at me and spun his index finger around his temples to give me the he's crazy sign. Then, he leaned back and put his thumb to his mouth with his pinky extended to give me the he drinks too much sign. I laughed.
          A few minutes later the tall skinny guy came out with a new tire. I asked him if it was still forty-five dollars? No, it's sixty-five. I told him I'd have to come back. He nearly blew a fuse and said you're kidding me. I said no I'm not. I looked at the bearded hipster and shrugged my shoulders and lifted my hands, the sign for what can I say?
          

The Negotiator

          
          I have a friend who's an expert negotiator. She's a real estate agent and has honed her skills over the years. She can turn a dire situation into no situation at all with her words. And she usually gets what she wants. I like to tease her about it.
          Will you be my negotiator? And stay by my side just in case I need to call AT&T, or the Department of Water And Power?
          She always says yes, but she doesn't really mean it. She's married. And the plan's no good unless she's at the ready. 
          I'm not a bad negotiator, but I'm apt to say it's not worth the trouble. I don't have a negotiator's desire. You need to be strong willed and fight it out. And unless you make me angry I don't have the will. 
          But my friend can negotiate two for one coupons with the best of them. She'll put any teenager answering the phone at your favorite restaurant to shame. She's good. 

Ghetto Siri

            
            I have an idea for an app. It's called Ghetto Siri. It comes with several different ethnic group voices to fit the stereotypes. It works something like this.
            Find a Thai food restaurant.
            Find it yourself bitch!
            Call Ronald.
            Ronald don't want to talk to your ugly ass!
            What does the fox say?
            What does the fox say? He says you're a stupid no-good mother-fucker!
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
         

         
         

            

Chinese Radio

           
            I've been listening to a Chinese radio station on the AM dial. I think it's Chinese. It could be Korean. Although sometimes it sounds like Japanese. I don't mean any offense, but I just can't figure it out.
            I got bored listening to my regular radio stations. And when you're bored, it just means you're boring. So I mixed it up a bit. I was looking for a Mexican radio station, but I kept finding Asian stations. I finally gave in to one and left it there.
            Now when I get into my car the Chinese station comes on and I'm interested. Oh yeah- the Chinese station. I forgot about that. I'll wonder what the heck they're saying. And what language they're speaking. It's stimulating. And it stimulates others too. When I come to a stop light I notice people looking at me funny. They look confused. I can tell they just want things to be seamless and simple. I'm challenging that in some way by what I'm listening to. 
           But I don't care. I'm just trying to grow. I want to feel and hear another culture and learn something new. The problem is I'm not learning anything new, because I have no idea what they're saying. I found myself getting frustrated. I thought about changing the station, but something told me not to. 
           Then the other day, I heard music I'd never heard before, and I knew why I had to stay the course. Chinese rap. It was so good.



            

Tony The Barber

            
            I found a good barber. I fired the big barber, and the skinny barber too. I got tired of looking like Hitler. That's not a good look in any situation. I now have a refined older gentleman named Tony as my barber. Tony's been cutting hair since 1962. He's magic with the scissors. He cuts hair like Edward Scissor Hands cuts hedges. He's fast and precise. The scissors squeak in his hand they're moving so fast.
            The only problem is, I like Tony, and in my attempt to gain his respect and impress him with my old school knowledge, I'll make a comment every once in a while about the music he's listening to.
            Is that Tommy Dorsey?
            No it's Glen Miller.
            I can't seem to get it right.
            The other day I went in for a haircut. It was the second time I'd been there. I said, is that Frank Sintatra? No, it's Lawrence Welk.
            I've been way off. And I know the difference. It's almost like I'm being taught a lesson not to force things. 
            I'd like to be Tony's friend. He's such a kind old man. It breaks my heart how kind he is. He's told me stories about himself and his family and how they have dinner together every Sunday at six-thirty. He's a model of consistency; same job, same wife, and he appears to be content with his choices. I admire people like that. He's not chasing anything. He's letting it all come to him and working hard in the meantime. That's artistry in my mind. Just working hard. 


            

The Fellowship

           
            I'm reading The Fellowship Of The Ring. And without realizing it I've entered the secret society of nerd geniuses. They're a people who speak little of what they've know, divulging information only when asked. I don't ask them many questions for fear of ruining Tolkien's story before reading it. 
            I remember seeing these nerd geniuses when I was a kid. I'd spot one with a book in their hand and ask, "what book is that?"
            The Hobbit, they'd answer before shyly scurrying away. I didn't read much when I was a kid, so I found it very peculiar. 
            I tried to watch The Hobbit the movie. I was so angered by it, having read the book. I couldn't watch the whole thing. I can't believe people are watching the movie without reading the book and thinking that they know it. You don't know it! You don't know anything! The movie butchered the book. Butchered it, I tell you. If you're one of these people, shame, shame on you. You're missing the juicy details. The real story. You're getting just a sliver of it, just a sliver. Hollywood is playing you for a fool! It's a travesty. 
            Do yourself a favor. Read the book! And if you want to be a real nerd genius read it over and over and then read The Fellowship over and over. And then read the one after that, whatever it's called. And don't speak of it unless you're asked. And don't talk about Battlestar Galactica either.