Shop Talk, Stage Talk

photo, group, yoko, karen, susanne, larry Today's Group of the Week, Yoko, Karen, Susanne and Larry.

Talk, Talk, Drink, Drink

by Ric Erickson

Paris:– Thursday, 21. September:–  Do you ever get the feeling there's a leak in the boat? An uneasy feeling that, out in the desert 88 miles from Reno, the gas gauge is stuck in the red zone? These little things that are going wrong – what do they mean? Am I just paranoid? Is there a ton of bricks poised over the next doorway?

These idle thoughts are drifting around here but everything seems to be in one piece, proceeding normally. Dunno what it is. The weather now, is not totally abnormal. I forget what was forecast for today. Yeah, there was wind in it, and some wind is what we had. From the north or northeast, maybe 40 or 50 kph worth. Then it was warm, at about 28 degrees, and the sky was clear and there were no clouds. Last day of summer or first day of autumn and it was certainly sunny. It's not right, this.

photo, cafe la corona Today's weather right here.

Tomorrow, according to tonight's TV–weather news bought to us on channel 2 by Laurent, is going to begin with a gruesome wave of clouds and maybe rain, out west, and it will get here sooner or later, and then it will pass on to delight the east. Or it may just pause right over our heads. No more than 22 degrees are to be expected.

Saturday, according to TV's weather map, will offer us a fine mess of effects – clouds, smaze, sunshine, with a high not too shabby of 25 degrees. Frankly the same thing was predicted for Sunday but I decided to note it as half and half, meaning that it will be like Saturday but the temperature will only reach 23 degrees. For some reason Le Parisien has classed this day as Moins pire. Less rotten than what?

The 'Shop Talk, Stage Talk, Talk, Drink' Report

My depart for the club today had a lot of planning behind it. This started yesterday at the Monoprix with the pre–stockage of vitals, at the post office ATM to get some cash and some other chores I can't recall at the moment. I retired early and got up pretty early – it was still morning, according to Anglo clocks – and I powered through my regular duties – got bread while it was still warm – and had my prescription AM dose of coffee. My bag was packed with the club materials, the camera reset to sunshine, and I was fully loaded. Then a little buzz in my bonnet told me Yoko's evening of Beatles song and lore is not tonight. It's next Thursday!

Prunes! And by this time I was late but all I had to do was pick up the bag and go, so I went. Down the stairs and out the door and down the street past Chez Papa and under the high trees past the cemetery and down the stairs into the métro at Raspail and out at Odéon where the escalator is broken, and huff–puff up all the stairs – to find the street barricaded by roadworks in the bus lane. At the newspaper kiosk I didn't see Le Parisien but he had one hidden and I exchanged money for it, and then avoided breaking a leg going down the alley where Benjamin Franklin used to bowl and through more roadworks and then along the narrow sidewalk in the rue Dauphine. Across the Pont Neuf without noticing much besides sunshine, snap a couple of posters at the kiosk in front of Samaritaine and then just a hop, skip and jump along, to the club's café. It may sound complicated but it's dead simple when you've done it 349 times.

photo, pair of teas Two iced teas for two.

Not seeing the two ladies promised by Uncle Den–Den sitting in the club's location in the grande salle did not faze me too much. There's time, I said to myself. And before much of it had passed there was member Larry Mann from Portland, Oregon coming in and sitting down, saying, "Where's Yoko? Where's Heather?"

Even though it was only 15:05 I decided to gloss over their absence – and keep the two ladies promised by Uncle Den–Den as a surprise. I found out that Larry used to be at home in Seattle, and that some people who work in Portland live in Vancouver, Washington across the Columbia River because there's no Oregon income tax there.

But before you call the movers, pay attention. I'm not sure I got that right. One place has no state income tax and the other has no state sales tax and I'm not sure which is which. To be absolutely certain, move instead to Vancouver, Canada because it is a province and not a state, and although there are taxes there they aren't payable in expensive USD's.

To get on safer ground I admire Larry's watch. He says he got it for 35 years of service to the electric company, the one that owns the huge dams built during the New Deal. I thought President Reagan had sold all of these to the Chinese but apparently this is not the case.

photo, swiss army watch of the weekThe Swiss Army watch of the week.

Somehow I learn that Larry – and Linda, who is resting today – are film fans. They've rented an apartment for a month, they're shopping, and Larry wants to know about movies in English. If the film is British or American and it's in the movie program guide marked with VO then the soundtrack will be in English. If te film is Italian, marked with VO in the listings, then the soundtrack will be in Italian. But if it is a Canadian movie marked with VO, then the soundtrack could be English or French. Switzerland is even more confusing.

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