Scorpio 29° (November 21)

 

Yesterday morning (Wednesday) I awoke and it was six forty-five when I went down to the lobby. I asked the desk, which turns out is being run by yet another clueless being this place seems to like to hire, if they were serving coffee in the lobby, he said not until seven, and then he went on this weird rant about the neighborhood, a salad of words that included Sixth Avenue and tourists and expectations and Starbucks. I said well what about the restaurant. He said no they (the staff) have all just come in and they’re setting up and a second salad of getting in their way and tourists and expectations. I shot him a look and proceeded to the restuarant where I found behind the bar the maitre d’ in her flannel shirt and boots asked her if I could get two Americanos. She said sure and I followed her to the expresso machine and told her what had happened the morning before because I knew she asked S. during lunch with A. I told her. And she told me that the hostess had said it was the anniversary of her losing a child I don’t know how many years ago. Which is still the most horrible thing in the world. But it’s like I said to Stella this is the perfect Curb Your Enthusiasm experience: Larry goes to breakfast he asks for a check the hostess brings it doesn’t respond to thank yous, needs to bring another check, more thank yous no responses; Larry finally says thank you for your charming service, the woman gets in his face and says my child just dies then comes back for lunch and she’s laughing it up with, sorry, other women of color and Larry finds out that the loss of her child didn’t just happen. It has the kind of tension of a Curb show because how far can Larry realy push his argument in the face of a loss of a child. It’s kinda perfect plot wise.

Okay so three things are happening. Number one I’m re-writing text that originally occupied this spot but which I lost due to a computer crash. That’s one. Two I had already been a “day behind” plot-wise in that what I was writing on this given days, and several previous, was about the day before. But thirdly, now, writing you from three days later than this date, I have fallen further behind such that I am now writing about what happened two days ago. So I just did that Curb Your Enthusiasm bit and added information that would be new to you—that the maitre d’ had reached out to S. and that the hostess was yukking it up with customers. But instead of going back into yesterday’s post, which was writing about the day before, I’m going to continue the story from when the hostess left the room, two days ago, and try to catch up on that day and also yesterday, and maybe take a couple days to do that, even, as this post becomes further and further fleshed out and beefed up.

So we are talking about Tuesday here. And this post is Thursday’s. And I am writing this on Sunday. So I am staring at three empty Blague posts to do past this one today so to finish out Sunday. At the same time I am behind and still have to recreate some text I wrote and lost, but now I have more room in which to flow it (these empty Blagues I’ve yet to write) which is a good thing because there aren’t as many “events” to recount being that we returned home to write and do little else but banal activities. But where I left off was the hostess storming out of the room. And at that moment the pretty French woman from the elevator, who at pastries for breakfast yesterday, and whom I had seen in the lounge, later, with a swarthy guy speaking French, they both came in and sat in a small booth. S. recognized him as this movie-maker she loves and whom I also like. So on the way out I went over and said hi there just want to say we are big fans and he was very grateful and flattered and he asked what we did and we said mainly astrologers, that we met in France, and did a book which didn’t last with Flammarion and were on a French TV show where, when I froze, they sent in a cloun. S. had mentioned we met there and she studied at the Sorbonne et tout ca. I then said something about his being on our “dinner party list” you know, if you had a dinner party and could invite anybody who would it be. We always said he and Charlotte. Anyway now I don’t remember if that happened in the morning or in the afternoon. Because we did go upstairs for a bit. A. was coming at 10 but she was going to be on the phone from 930 downstairs. We were watching the hearings so it was fine.

Anyway we came back down and Yvan was still there and the conversation continued and he asked for a card and S. went to fetch one and I sat with A. who ordered a breakfast of smoked salmon and such. I had another coffee, still. S. came down and dropped a card and we had a great meeting and we really talked through the whole V.D. situation and we signed all our contracts and combed through some design questions that had popped into my brain in the night, which weren’t specious in the end. And A. had to get back to work and we decided, right, let’s go back to Pastis for lunch why not. I made a reservation. We had a lovely lunch, I the Nicoise, S. the chicken paillard salad. We then went and got a gifty for A. at Hermes, which turns out to be the place where I had photographed the metal awnings the day before which I just showed to A. this morning. How did we not realize it was Hermes—I guess they must have had metal gates lowered. Anyway we returned back in time for a phone chat with Meg?…oh no that’s not right. We already had the phone chat with Meg?—see this is what happens when you lose material and have to recreate it—my memory is no longer one hundred percent on this.  Whenever the call was it kind of doesn’t matter.

We had a client, whom it was great to see. I had a call with my osteo guy to discuss what’s going on in my neck. I was not surprised to hear. We are definitely coming back in a few weeks for this party. They are getting the parts together at the mechanics, I just need to contact them Friday (but I won’t make contact when I call in the morning and I won’t call back). Just like we returned to the scene of the lunch crime so are we going back to Claudette for dinner. We are creatures of habit and like to mitigate our surprises and my stomach is so bad today I have this weird instinct that I should have a vodka martini. We go to the resto. I have that martini. Then scallops and we get the Bandol again and a pot de creme (I think it’s been on someone’s mind since they saw it on the menu, too, at Pastis). We have the clean tajine discussion this night I think. There is a homeless woman outside to whom we give money but S. is freaked out and thinks she’s buying drugs with it and will overdose. We go back to the hotel and now tomorrow (Wednesday morning) is the day on which I began this actual post, writing it into the Thursday’s slot on a Sunday. And When I write tomorrow’s post I will begin again on that same day, now, two days later.

 

To view the original Sabian Symbol themed 2015 Cosmic Blague corresponding to this day: Flashback! The degree pointof the Sabian Symbol will be one degree higher than the one listed for today. The Blague portrays the starting degree of for this day ( 0°,  for instance), as I typically post in the morning, while the Sabian number corresponds to the end point (1°) of that same 0°-1° period. There are 360  degrees spread over 365 or 6 days per year—so they near but not exactly correlate.

 

Typos happen. I don’t have a proofreader. And I like to just write, post and go!
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