As I said, I'm bored with listing the people I have met or seen or talked to or peed standing next to and so forth. I still haven't told the good stories about Tom Waits or Werner Herzog or David Johannsen and John Woo or on and on ad nauseum.
I realized that the reason I didn't ask people for autographs is because, I didn't really see the need to accumulate such things. In the same way, why am I accumulating, writing, these stories now?
I had thought that, when I had finished my own list, I would start listing names of people that friends of mine had met. There could be no end to this. I should be baking bread right now.
But just today, I got an email from Banjo who flew back to NYC after a good visit and poker night here. He wrote,
"Flight from Chicago was uneventful save for the fact that Gina Lollobrigida was on the plane. She was a parody of an aged movie star wearing large red sequined sunglasses, a red cape with a black dress and black boots and a big brown wig. I stood next to her and her friend at baggage claim but didn't ask for an autograph. If I did I was going to tell her that I was Gregoire Melville and a distant relative of the novelist but I chickened out."
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3 comments:
Young folk won't appreciate this story, but people over 50 will.
Years ago when I was an undergraduate I threw open a very heavy door to the building I was living in, a door with no windows in it, and absolutely creamed an older gentleman who was on the outside apparently just about to come in.
I helped him up, brushed him off, made sure he could walk and was not in shock, apologized briefly, and then raced off to catch the subway to my job -- for which I was running late.
As I ran I realized that his face had been very familiar. And then I gave sincere thanks that he was OK.
Otherwise my gravestone might have had to report "HE CRIPPLED JONAS SALK".
(Salk's son, with whom I don't recall ever speaking, lived in my building.)
-30-
(How's that for brevity, Greg?)
I don't know how to handle people reading my blog and leaving comments. I am too accustomed to being left alone.
Pobrecillo!
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