“You may have chosen me,” says Doctor Krill, “because my ad in
the Yellow Pages said I used laughing gas, but this is no laughing
matter.” A response more eloquent than “um” is difficult. Gobs
of cotton batting are wedged between my gums and lip, and there’s
a plastic device spitting into my mouth, bubbling like an infernal
hookah. Besides, more than twenty years have passed since the
last time I found myself tilted back in a dental chair, oral cavity
propped open, knuckles white from gripping ...
Like Being In Love
I get a lift across the border to the train station at Latour de
Carol. I'm catching the 8:30 evening run to Paris. When I get in
the car, it is almost empty. On a previous trip to Paris I was hoping
to find the jazz clubs around Montmartre and Pegalle but failed
to do so. I had only a few hours then and my taxi driver did not
know the area. She only knew that Pegalle was where all the sex
clubs were. She dropped me off near the Moulin Rouge, warning me
to be careful. The only thing I found of interest was the L'X-O!
Slow in Puigcerda
As I have said before, San Francisco is mostly a wonderful place.
But now and then you must get away or go nuts. I was approaching
near nuts, so decided it was time. In former times I went anywhere:
Mexico, India, Nepal, Pakistan ... But I now have a daughter who
lives in Spain. So I just drop in on her: "Hola, hija, what is
for dinner?" But this time I had an additional excuse for dropping
in: She had a birthday coming in a week. "What do you want?" I
asked her on the phone. "Whiskey," she said, "and Cuban
Fish Jelly ...
"I'm Old-Fashioned." I always get a kick out of hearing Chet Baker
sing that song. Chet Baker old-fashioned? Drunk and loaded on Heroin?
Anyway, he sings it very nicely. Miles was always jealous of Chet
because he sounded a lot like Miles. Thought that Chet was copying
him. I think it is rather like this: Chet absorbed some of Miles
but he had his own style. They were just similar kind of players.
Miles never tried to sing, however. Now that is something to think
about. Stopped by Enrico's last Friday. Thomas "The Knack" Waugh
was in command at the bar....
Once we tried to guess how many times we’d make love together
in the years we had left to us. Six thousand—that number sticks
in my head, though it strikes me as awfully high. We may have
exaggerated the number of years we had left in order to console
ourselves for those we’d already missed. Like children whose eyes
are bigger than their stomachs, we may have overestimated the
number of times per year. Or maybe we simply weren’t much good
Fun, Sun, h'MUN
He looked like the quintessential crusty old San Franciscan to me,
slicked back thin gray hair, a guy who looks like he has spent a
whole life rooting for the home team at baseball stadiums ... But
who knows? Maybe he was a tourist from Scotland and they made a
deal with him to leave the country or face prosecution for being
drunk. Drunk in San Francisco? Big deal? At least he wasn't on duty.
In his perhaps-brain-damaged state he may have thought he was getting
a good deal. Myself, I would have stayed to sue. What is the truth?
I'm not sure I want to know....