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
31 Responses to that crazy angel
Another crazy guy magnet like myself! Yey, i’m not alone. I know what you mean about wondering though, I often do think ‘what if…’ but am never brave /stupid enough to test it.
“small, pretty and polite” it takes more than that to have these kind of meetings between souls. I am guessing you are at least a bit of the healer type. It can get a person in all kinds of trouble! I think you were brave and kind. I once met an odd man who offered me a wood screw. I could not take it from him. It was the very thing I needed and I just regret like hell not taking it from him. I look forward to the hero story!!!
If someone told me they were an angel, I admit I would think they were crazy. How could anyone succeed in this day and age as a prophet? We’re all so cynical. I know I am.
Maybe he was partially Hispanic and his name was “Angel”. It could happen.
People that have been labeled “crazy”, for one reason or another, sometimes turn out to be geniuses. Unfortunately, the only way to see that most of the time, is by looking through hindsight and history.
However, if some dude tells you that he is an angel and that he wants to take you home because you look like Sharon Stone, chance are pretty good that he is nuttier than squirrel shit.
Oh, I don’t see the Sharon Stone thing. I’d say that you looked more like Jessica Lange.
I’d give him the benefit of the doubt and ask him to ask God if he could grant a very special wish – an M3 convertible with custom paint (pewter), bad ass sound system, and wicked rims.
Definitely got to give people the benefit of the doubt. Once he proved himself legit, I’d let him take me home (unless that’s some euphemism for dirt nap).
PS He knows you are a contender for kama sutra goddess!
Oh, no doubt he’s an old pervert.
But you, you have the gift of magical thinking.
A shrink might tell you it’s unhealthy and deluded, maybe even that you never made it through some stage of childhood.
But magical thinking is the place where imagination and creativity and wonder lives.
So who cares if he’s a pervert, all that matters is that you are open to the possibility of angels.
It’s why you’re such a good writer.
This is odd, this post keeps coming up blank. Luckily I have super duper editing controls I wonder if they will work….
[okay comments do not like arrows]
Contender for kama sutra goddess, yay!
[stilletto you crack me up]
Deborah, you know “grow up” translated means “give up,” right? I have a secret decoder ring I got out of a box of breakfast cereal.
Tommy, thanks. Jessica is real pretty.
Wow, Max, this is one of my favorite posts of yours. It’s so like you to put yourself in this old dude’s shoes and see yoursef through his glasses, “[I am still trying to figure out how he could see I was blonde through those glasses forget deep.]”
I always love your take on realty. The smartest people out there are the ones who say “I don’t know it all.”
You are one of them. The proof is in the post.
Hey, Birthday Girl. Thanks.
Eyebrow calesthenics are recognition without action. I am so glad hear they translate internationally.
Hmmm, whack a “to” in front of that “hear” above.
What worries me the most is that angels are out there looking for Sharon Stone looks alikes. Unfortunately I’m not blonde, I haven’t used an ice pick against anybody cept last summer to take the ice off my mom’s old freezer and I don’t find Michael Douglas hot. Max, you better dye your hair dark or you’re in trouble, missy.
Oh yeah, eye brow calesthenics [are we spelling that right?] are totally universal.
Sophia, come to the blonde side.
Wasn’t that Glen Close?
Don’t do it, Sophia–DON’T DO IT!!!!
Glenn Close was in Fatal Attraction. That was the boiled bunny movie. Sharon Stone was in Basic Instinct. That was the ice pick movie.
[of course we are spelling it right, we are smart remember] cough
[oh like smart ever meant any one could spell]
You know, my first instint would have been this guy is crazy but the doubt would linger too. Maybe not…
Lucky he didn’t grab you away from us.
Like there was a chance I would, Lulu. Never for the life of me. I hate angels -especially crazy angels- running after me. I’m not really in men with wings.
I meant going to the blonde side, Sophia. Us dark-haired girls have to stick together. I’ve heard once you go to the blonde side you never return. It terrifies me.
As for men with wings, they can be damn good in bed, but THAT is another story. In your case, Max, you did the right thing.
Now I love a man with wings. Particularly men named… um, you know.
That’s what I meant too, Lulu. I will never go to the blonde side to save my life. I’ve heard really terrifying stories, spooky ones. Is that true about men with wings? I’ve had men with tails, men with horns, men with scales, but I’ve never had a man with wings. Damn! Guess it’s too late now.
Michele, what were you about to say? Men named…?
Men with tails? horns? scales? What have you been doing Greek Gods or something? Syzygy?
I am reconsidering that trip to Greece and Sophia is cut off no more ouzo jeez.
You two don’t know what you’re missing.
Apparently a tryst with a gargoyle. I was aiming for Statue of David here. Sheesh.
Sophia–a girl after my own heart lol
Thank you, Lulu. We dark-heads can communicate.
Max, one word: stereotypes.
Oh I do not want a stereotype. I want a man of stone.