(no subject)

Things that I learned on the cab drive home today:

1. Spaccone is the Italian word for poser. "You know, a guy who thinks he's a big shot when he ain't."
2. Not all cabdrivers are cabbies. Some are Spaccones. Others are Arabs.
3. Barack Obama made 509 promises while campaigning.
4. Texas has its own Navy.
5. My cabdriver is 77 years old, and has sciatica and a mysterious ache in the left side of his ribcage.
6. Mayor Daley is a homosexual.

I feel like I just spent twenty minutes as the narration character in a 1970's arthouse film about urban life. I'm about to run over to R's and hang out, which puts me squarely in an early-90's Gen-X kind of a flick.

If I end up in a futuristic sci-fi thriller of any kind, I'll be sure and post about it in the VirtualNet right before my Citizen Passcode gets erased and I have to go underground.

(no subject)

Slurp. Slurp. Slurp.

I look over at the kitchen of R's flat and all I can see is the back of his absurd knit hat, just above the counter. He's crouching. And he's...slurping.

"What are you doing?" I ask. He turns around and I can see...a bowl on the counter.

"I like, filled the bowl all the way to the top," he said. "With, you know. Soup. So I'm sipping it."

"You are so lucky I'm not over there taking pictures of you right now."