unrealized scripts

Thursday, February 02, 2006

Lunch With Buddha


Tuesday Morning.
Tuba City, Arizona.
Present Day (within a week or two)

Alarm goes off at 10:55am and I snooze for about 15 more crucial minutes. It feels good to not really have responsibilities right now and to have to set my alarm to wake up before noon. Had a good time taco set last night which involved a new steak combo taco with some guacamole and tortilla strips. Crumbs are left next to the video game console along with the empty beer cans and graphs I got into last night. Put on some Poco and promptly got into the shower. Trying out some new conditioner my brother’s friend Kal suggested. Lets see if this shit works. Thought about the forest while cleaning my pubes making me think it may time to get out the razor from under the counter. Did the Lightning win last night, I hate those fuckers so I sure hope not. Fuck yeah, “You Better Think Twice”. What’s this peanut butter doing in the shower caddy?

Slip on my favorite slacks and my socks which I insert into my new birkenstocks. Groovy fit, feels good - like they belong there. Sit down in my chair for a think and a sip of joe. I have really been meaning to get into something good. Glance out the window and see that the clouds have spelled out “Cool Trip, Friend” in the sky. Not really but man, if I had my wishes.

Out the front door be sure to lock it up tight. Run into Red Foot Frank. He is on his way back from the slave grind, coming home to grab some cheetos and off again. He tells me about this sweet show he caught on the Sci-Fi channel last night. Luckily I TIVO every show on that channel (I usually delete like 98% of that bullshit). Walk across the street for a diet black cherry vanilla diet coke and find $60 and a coupon for free mini-golf and games laying on the sidewalk. This is going to be a great day and also a great night if I end up going to Liberty Zone Mini-Golf N Games Center tonight. We’ll see if my feet are upholding my legs by that time - but damn if these burks are still treating me this well later, my thoughts are pointing to yes.

Not very many people think about the cost of stuff these days. Like for instance I have always wanted a stuffed eagle for my den. Perched on a branch with a pear gripped in its talons. Symbolizes animal vegetarianism, their choice. I can feel the microwaves clapping from outside the door. Construction workers must be hungry, burrito #2 hungry men. #4 preset. 35 seconds. Lost in lotto, but really won with the tender in my pouch.

In the car on the way to pick up my friend the Buddha for our this Tuesday lunch. Wonder what he is going to talk about today? Policies? Hand wrinkle patterns? Cosmic slop? Wish we had a Harry T’s up here, that’s where I would take him. I don’t have a cell phone but I should probably get around to buying one of those go phones where I pay for the time I want to use. Pay in pennies or dollars and make like 50 half minute calls to random establishments. I kinda also wish you could pay for shit in gold. I bet Buddha could help me out with a stack of gold gorilla coins. Make our own mold, fill our own minds with friendship.

Saw two traffic accidents on the street. Both of them involved ramps and flipping. This is a fucking cool town. Light a candle on the dashboard, get some good scents going. Hear this song called “Camel Eye” on the radio by this new band called “Snortrind”. Such a joke. I should think of a good set of jokes to tell Buddha when he gets in the car and we are at lunch. I imagine he is going to want to go to the Swan House, but even still I should be ready cerebrally. Another billboard for the fat man. Another daydream of sex in another state. Black cobras. Orange cobras. Pink eye. One is better than the other, so don’t fret about having ocular problems, they are the least of your worries.

The northside of the city reminds me of what I would think Egypt looks like. Desolate with culture ribbons. Desperate with turquoise stones.

I pull into Buddha’s complex and give out a quick two burst honk. Not to call him out to come get in my car but just a heads that I will be up momentarily. I climb the outside ladder to the second tier where I then catch the elevator to the 4th. The door is cracked when I get there, confirmation that he heard my sounds. I walk in to a Milton Nascimento record on the turntable up at a medium volume. Sounds healthy. Buddha has an interesting style, not what you would think. He has a penchant for usurping your expectations. He checks his punch list and is ready to roll. He checks his watch and tells me I’m late, but that is ok because we are going to enjoy such a fine lunch and fine conversation. Cool Nike’s.

On the ride over to the Coach House (not the Swan like I had expected, not even the Public House as crept into my consciousness) Buddha was sitting cross legged with one knee up with his arms around that knee speaking freely of birds. I told him I had a profound topic to discuss. What is it friend? I began to explain one of my recent reflections - If I Was A Woman I Think I Could Get Away With Talking A Lot More Shit To People. He knew not where I was coming from. I trudged on not trying to seem crass, but explaining to him that at Ace Hardware the other day I had witnessed one of the cashiers being as rude as she desired to all the men and women coming through her line. Could have been a bad day, but I think I witnessed something grand. She had no reservations, what was going to happen truly? He told me to follow my dreams, I told him to quit being a smart ass. I realized it was somewhat of a dumb thing to bring up to such divinity, but you know what - hells bells and a basket of beer.

The Coach House was delectable and provided a nice habitat for soul interaction. He had the spring salad with gorgonzola and I had the brazen pork chops with the side of mint jelly.

4 Comments:

  • At 6:20 AM, Blogger ice said…

    You need to turn this into the next great novel. Call J.D. Salinger out on his shizz.

     
  • At 12:12 PM, Blogger darkness said…

    If I Was A Woman I Think I Could Get Away With Talking A Lot More Shit To People should be the name of your one-man show.

     
  • At 2:08 AM, Blogger scarnsworth said…

    this is so amazing. i like to read it every three or so months.

     
  • At 2:11 AM, Blogger scarnsworth said…

    mint jelly goes so well with pork chops too.

     

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