that crazy angel
So this guy —
Came up to me in Hollywood. He was quite possibly insane. But I could not escape. I had to wait where I was. And while he was talking to me, I got all those sympathy looks — you know, guys saying with their eye brows they are so sorry you are talking to that freak instead of them, do you need help?
Real heroes walk in and sweep you up and say, Baby, I am so sorry I am late. [I will tell you that story some other time.] Non-heroes raise their eyebrows a lot like maybe they are better than the person you are talking to and could save you except they are wimps and are limited to eyebrow calesthenics.
This guy was eighty. He walked with a cane. He could sing. He was polite.
I did not want to be rude. He was eighty and hell, when I am eighty and crazy, I sure as hell hope people are polite to me.
I stuck it out.
He told me he was in show biz, a singer. He was black and wore dark glasses at night. When he started singing to me I had to tell him to quit it. Listen, I am Episcopalian, someone singing to me in public is FUCKING embarassing —
Oops. We are not supposed to say “FUCKING.” [I am a bad Episcopalian.]
I had to tell him quit it, having someone sing to me in public was embarrassing the hell out of me. And he did. He quit it. And told me he was an angel. And told me he was looking for people to take home. He thought I looked like Sharon Stone. He could tell by looking at me I was deep. [I am still trying to figure out how he could see I was blonde through those glasses forget deep.] Did I want to come home?
Insane, right? Or, an angel?
That is the question.
We pay a lot of lip service to messiahs and angels and powers that be. We have shows about them. We have stories about them. We think we believe in them.
This guy told me he was an angel and he had a job to do and some of that was picking people up. Me, I was not so sure I wanted to be picked up. Also I was sort of suspicious of the pick up criteria since he told me I looked like Sharon Stone and that was good enough for him. But still —
If someone tells you they are from Heaven on a long range pick up mission, what do you think? The guy is crazy? Or the guy is legit?
Me, I always wonder. Maybe all those people we label “crazy” are right and we are wrong.
Or maybe I just have “small pretty and polite” tatooed on my forehead and that is why all the crazies zero in on me.
*editorial note : i so do not look like sharon stone