Virgo 14° (September 5)
Now, I have one more trope, device call it what you will. I’ve not seen it used before so I think I invented it. It should speed us along and will serve as some scaffling for some future stories. I’m calling this a quasi-epic poem, without rhymes, to which I will add stanzas over time. It is titled: Well I Never.
Well I Never met a girl at Logan Airport at whom I made funny faces, then started dating, married and am still with 36 years later
Well I Never Flew to Paris and, jet-lag dreamed, I was French currency, in coins, being poured through a sorting machine.
I never climbed an alp with my girlfriend to stay in a ruin left over from the 1968 Olympics and nearly together froze to death
Well I Never staged a sit in when I discovered our school in France cost BU $1K that year but our parents were paying $16K
I never organized an educational field trip for a dozen of us to go to Rome and had the whole thing paid for by Study Abroad office
Well I never met, my girlfriend and I, an elderly man after midnight, in a bar who spoke in tongues but we understood him and my girlfriend never never remembered him being young not elderly
I was never given the nickname Credit Leone for swiping taxi receipts from French cabs and giving them to students to get reimbursed by the program
I never went to Paris every weekend but one because it was eight francs to a dollar and hotels cost nothing in those days
Well I Never flunked most of my classes including Cubism because I didn’t speak French until that year was nearly over
I Never returned to BU for senior year and got straight A plusses but still didn’t graduate with honors. Then moved back to Paris.
I was Never swept up by an Italian futball team and taken to a Club on the C. E. where naked women danced around giant plastic phalluses
A man in a car with a driver never picked me up off the street to take me to an ceremony on the C.E. for a French futball team celebrating a win and was lobster on gold plates as the players sat on a multi tier dais pouring champage over each other’s heads
Well I Never danced at Le Castel with my girlfriend next to a woman was it Jerry Hall? whose gold lame dress only covered on breast
I never worked at a magazine called Passion that was this big because it was the 80s by day and at a restaurant in the Marais before it was the Marais called Dizzy Place not Dizzy’s Place or The Dizzy Place.
I never met my tribe of people that year, still my dearest friends, and one of them didn’t one day write the Harry Potter books
Well I never lived in Harvard Square for a year and wore a Marrimeko uniform working at the Harvest restaurant dancing away nights at Man Ray
I never crashed a party in Allston where someone put pcp in the pot or dosed my drink and then ended up being arrested at the 7-11 for eating Vienna Sausages out of the can and was thrown into a cell with scary people who were soon screaming to get out because I was scarier. I didn’t sing Sweet Chariot substituting words that suggested I was a Mafia prince and when my girlfriend and a friend picked me up I didn’t dive roll out of the car going 40 miles an hour on soldiers field road and absorb the impact with multiple forward rolls, seeing the math and blueprint in my head, then spring to my feet and run back to the 7-11 because my bike was there and I didn’t crouch down and propel myself into the air and clear the eight foot fence without touching and get my bike and smash my way out and back to my house where another chain link gate enclosed the shared driveway between my house with my landlords house and I didn’t see the math in my head again that told me where to ram the fence with my bike so that it came out of its cement pilings and then ride over the fence with my feet never having left the pedals and run into kitchen back door and take off all my clothes and start breaking all the dishes in the house and back into the backyard and the landlord’s golden retrievor wasn’t going crazy and crash through it’s screen door to jump around with me and I didn’t wake up naked in the back yard spooning the dog which comforted me all night long and I didn’t stumble into the house and look in the mirror and every muscle in my body wasn’t supersized so I looked the the Hulk and I wasn’t so sensitive to light that I couldn’t go out of the house in the daytime for a week
I never moved to Hoboken to work at Avenue Magazine on 57th Street while my girlfriend also worked on 57th at Bergdorf Goodman
Well I never studied acting with Uta Hagen who didn’t hate me because a class applauded an exercise I did and she didn’t have this thing called the Hagen Wagen where a student had to bring in lunch for everyone and I made a Full Mediterranean meal, including humus in a bread bowl and she never said “what is this shit?
My neighbor Tony Goldwyn never offered to give me a list of agents and he never called to invite me over greeting me wearing nothing but those tiny striped nylon Richard Simmons shorts and I never made a lame excuse and went running from his brownstone and never kicked myself later.
Well I never had Julianna Margulies over with her then boyfriend to play charades and she was never really good at it
Well I never studied comedy improv and came up with a sketch where I was Tony Randall doing a commercial which went like this: “Hi I’m Tony Randall and I want to talk to you about Oscar Wilde Camp for Sensitive Boys. At Oscar Wilde you don’t learn the usual ruff and tumble fistacuffs and other sports and skills. No. At Oscar Wilde Camp you learn proper ascot tie, quipping, inuendo, Maugm. That’s right Oscar Wilde it’s truly camp.
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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