pollyanna

pollyanna was in early this morning during my make coffee and think time. she asked me how my weekend was. she always does, though i do nothing to encourage questions like that. i don't care if you notice i got my haircut either. she apologized for not going to the minnow on friday and asked if anyone was there. she meant anyone from work.

there's always someone there, i said.

i remember when i was the sort of person who needed to meet people places, who needed to know that other people were coming. now i simply have a destination. i sit and the parade comes. i never know who will show up. i'm rarely disappointed if someone doesn't.

this friday: bar was full, so we sat for a while with jake from work. some gossip and he left. bar seats open up. we sit next to the mailman who is celebrating the birthday of a woman sitting next to him. they are older and resistent of shots with funny names; they prefer straight liquor shots. and then shot-and-a-beer carol shows up, back from his vegas trip. we chat with him about his debaucherous trip until his to-go food comes and he's home to mommy. an old aquaintence shows up and cries to me about her friend's husband's suicide. she seemed concerned that the friend get a cleaning job. bartender reggie complains about her after she leaves because she demands an itemized bill. people with money are cheap. our friend merlin takes carol's place at the bar and butter sits next to me. odd conversations until the rockstar shows up and takes a liking to me. big burly guy in fender jacket with the single ugliest girlfriend ever. he buys me a shot. then he buys the bar a shot. then he buys me another. we kill the bar's supply of wild turkey. he grabs me by the shoulder and tells me to look into his eyes. he yells something about vinyl and tells me he's going on tour the next day. see you in three years, he says, so we go home.

no need to pre-arrange that.