Most days I go around with the first-line to a great story everywhere I go. I walk my happy-ass into Starbucks and in my head was authoring:
“ She opened the door too hard again today, hitting her head on this broken door for the last time. She thought, until… HE walked over; tall and cavalier and savvy enough to open the door before she had another opportunity to knock ( pronouncing the “k”) herself in the “kepie” again.”
To me, Lululemon sounds as if it is either a drink you have on a cruise, or something you squeeze into your Swee-touch-nee tea at Nana’s house.I have to say my favorite first line is usually in the form of a song. And Benny Goodman’s “SING SING SING” is a doozey especially when I feel like I am on my A-Game and going out somewhere. ( <–yes, this is really me)
When that is playing, any line is a good line and I usually get there feeling pretty dang good, swinging it hip to hip.
On arriving to whatever destination I get to, with “SING SING SING” I’m feeling a size 4 and all in glitter ready to walk into “the” bar, a plethora of men named Charlie yell “He-ya Kitten”… as I wave back knowingly with one hand donning one long red glove a velvet dress and a tiara ( It’s my scene, I have to have a tiara, you wouldn’t make fun of Rita Hayworth… OK then)
As make my way in, saying quick casual smarmy hellos to passers by, a steward lifts a round bistro style table over his head placing it at my feet as quickly as a chair is placed right behind me. White linen table covers, effortlessly drape the table followed by a candle and vase with flower.
Maurice, a slick looking waiter holding a towel and bottle of champagne on his arm whispers silently to his lackey who appears post-haste with a crystal champagne glass and a light of my cigarette…. ( the song fades)
( Fade In: Reality)
… it seems that Sweet Tomatoes Salad bar closes at 9 p.m. on Sundays * sigh*
so me and my birkenstocks opt for Chinese take out and some SiriusXM England Dan on the way home.
The song just never really continues to all it is supposed to be.
In movies, like Annie Hall, ( Woody Allen is king of Soundtracks), Manhattan Murder Mystery, or Goodfellas, the music just goes along perfectly; the people live out exactly what the music is portraying it to be.
Songs from movies like “Moonglow” from Picnic in the scene where Kim Novak and Bill Holden dance, is just AWE-some. I do mean; jaw-droppingly, breath holdingly awesome eveytime I see it.
Nothing, I did in October came close to anything like that; except maybe, embarrassingly enough, flirt shamelessly with someone half my age who has zero interest in me…..That doesn’t even come close to that scene.
But every-time I hear that song, I may as well have.
At the moment, “You Made Me Love You” by Harry James just popped on and I drift to the “Hannah and her Sisters” scene with Michael Caine and Barbara Hersey dancing, forbiddingly clandestine in a New York City hotel room with a bottle of Perrier-Jouet bedside.
Reality, I sit in a cafe in North West Vegas drinking a, now cold, half-caf latte in the red cup. The red cup” is the only reminder that the holidays are on their way– and it will be another season that will be the best time anyone will have, in my head. Ugh, Really?
Another prime example: “Rhapsody in Blue” doesn’t exactly match up to the next crap ass situation:
A guy holding a baby walks up to a Jewish girl at a cafe, ( this is the beginning of a joke right there.. as this happened not five minutes ago) and asks if she remembers talking to him a few weeks ago about “all things Jewish”. She said, “ Yes I do”– as his, obviously annoyed, Meg Ryan looking wife looks on agitated, then he turns to her saying: “Remember, I told you, she’s the one about the Jewish stuff” “
“ Oh, uh-huh” she shakes her head; knowingly-unknowingly, looking like she just unexpected ate piece of gristle from a steak.( No One Expects the Spanish Inquisition)
“Nice to meet you”; she says obviously not remembering, as obviously he never told her.
I look awkwardly at her, as I never introduced myself to warrant someone to say “nice to meet you” and say
“Yes, Yes” and nod at her through squinted eyes red and sore from computer glare.
Trying not to be rude; I focus mostly on her, gratuitously asking about her kids, autumn activities and the weather– as I know what it was like to once play the part of the “asshole wife.”
I am too cerebral for this town….
As “I’ve Heard That Song Before” swells in my blue-tooth headphones, I clean the lenses of the ugliest glasses I have ( the backup pair) looking around as the Friday crowd piles in with their spray tanned bodies squeezed into their hooded tank tops ( That’s Vegas for you) carrying shopping bags, first-world problems and acrylic nails.
The cute guy with the long hair and green shirt is here again–always wearing an orange ballcap… which means he is bald with long hair (ouch). That is almost leaning toward mullet territory…. that can turn “attracted to a nerd” into, “Ugh you’re giving me GERD” ,quickly.
As the old timey sounds of “She’s Funny That Way” by the Erroll Garner Trio plays on,
I shake my head, and roll my eyes and hope I look better than I really do in the reflection of my computer screen. As stated, life’s situations and songs just never really match the over romanticized moments in life I lend to them…. or equate to their movie’s counterparts soundtracks.
Life: It makes music sadder- not the other way ’round.
Another Friday Night in Vegas