Saturday, March 10, 2007

Sweet Potatoes, Sabres and Butterfly Wings

Violet and I decided to meet at Bukowski’s last Saturday night. Violet’s a full-time musician, who warned me she uses her feminine charm to turn men to vegetarians. That sounded wonderfully dangerous. I had met her at one of her shows, and I’ve since been to a couple more. The first time I saw her, she was wearing a black dress that made her look like a cross between a nineteenth century showgirl and a gothic princess. Her wild hair was up, the outline of her eyes was dark, and her smile was of a heavenly precision.

Something miraculous happens when you say her name, incidentally -- a mist explodes off your tongue and you’re treated to visions of a cigarette burning on a baby grand piano at 3 a.m. while people shake the ice cubes in their empty snifters and the only thing holding their heads up is that girl singing and the sweet look in her eyes and that’s the hour everyone’s too goddamn foolish to realize just how beautiful they are. And that’s Violet.

We met at 8:00 p.m. Bukowski’s is a restaurant located in Inman Square in Cambridge. It’s frequented by the local musician set and the Cambridge jet-set crowd and has a slight twinge of unsavory yuppification. We sat down in a plush red diner-like booth.

Elvis Costello took our order.

“I’ll have a Thiriez,” Violet said.

Sound. I ordered La Fin Du Monde, which is literally the end of the world.

“What did you mean by non-traditional?” I asked, continuing a previous conversation.

“I didn’t mean I was a swinger or anything like that. Just that I’m not interested in marriage or a family. But I like monogamy.”

“Oh…yeah, I agree.”

“Why aren't you interested in marriage?” She asked.

“I feel like it would hurt my book sales in Europe.” I said.

“Have you sold any books in Europe?”

“No. No, I haven’t.” I said.

She gave me a puzzled look. I pondered this.

The waiter then came over with our drinks and took our order. Saved.

The music was loud and conversation was difficult, but Violet’s eyes and the slight tilt of her head shot a beautiful Brezsny vibe at me that went like this:

"Slapstick thinker with refined sensibilities seeks a saint-like sinner with insanely cool style for a long-distance joyride towards the outskirts of Nirvana. Established meditation practice and a good bedside manner are desirable. Would it be too much to ask that you might also have a high level of emotional intelligence without boring me to death with your maturity? Is it possible that you'll be an entertaining talker who also knows how to listen with your wild heart turned up all the way? Let's keep reinventing ourselves forever.”

I could get on board with that, I thought. I soon tired of talking over the music, and I suggested she sit next to me. She sat next to me, and maybe I was only playing a man. And maybe she was only playing a woman. Or better yet, we were two exotic birds exchanging tentative mating calls as the scene of boho-cool hipsters swaggered from show to show through the little, square window.

Slight brushes of the hand and sweet potato French fries took over. “My Song” by Jerry Cantrell thrashed through the speakers, as we finished our meals. We both leaned back and my arm became acquainted with her shoulders and hmm…ahhh…can any man resist that? And through the window I saw that the dreariness outside was a veiled counterpoint to the impending promise of Spring.

“Shall we leave this place?” She asked, turning towards me.

“Yeah,” I said.

Off we went into the puddle-ridden lilac night.


Blogger Inkblot said...

oh ummm pure lavendar!

6:06 AM  
Blogger Stormy Zephyr said...

So spontaneous are those words. Hope the puddle-ridden lilac night treated you amazingly well! And of course the brazen moon, if there was one then.

11:45 AM  
Blogger ozymandiaz said...

Damn I love reading your writing. You sir do truly have a gift.
Oh, and I see your taking comments now. Why the change (if I may be so bold)?

10:40 AM  
Blogger bert moth said...

inky - Lilac, I tell you! ;)

sz - Spontaneous prose rocks, don't it? Heheh.

ozy - Thanks very much for the compliment.

As far as comments, I wrote in another thread I'd be too busy to blog for a bit. I still felt compelled to post, however. But as I didn't have time to respond to commments or make it to anyone else's blog, I didn't want anyone to feel compelled to comment here.

10:08 PM  
Blogger GeL (Emerald Eyes) said...

Even if I wasn't in love with the color purple, this easy, breezy romantic glimpse would plant plush orchids in my heart and wisk me off to lilac nirvana. I can hear the music calling me to escape on an adventure of my own. Your writing has that magical quality to look into you while letting me imagine- sigh. How I've missed your writing!

6:20 AM  
Blogger bert moth said...

Oh, lilac nirvana... that sounds special. I'd be intrigued as to your adventure. And thank you for the compliment. Glad (understatement) to read your comments once again!

12:30 PM  
Blogger Diana said...

ha! brezsny. you say that to all the girls...

7:17 AM  
Blogger bert moth said...

ha! you know, i noticed that quote on this day and used it for this piece, and i loved it so much, i had to use it again. heheh

11:42 AM  
Blogger Diana said...

"again"...and again...and again...and again...

11:56 AM  
Blogger Diana said...

nope. tartness untouched. as suspected.

12:59 PM  
Blogger bert moth said...

"'again'"...and again...and again...and again..."

ooooohh. i'm putting this in the context of my own choosing. wanna guess?

5:44 PM  

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