Words of Words of Danny

Danny had exceptionally beautiful hair: strinking, silky, shiny, the color of flax in June. One should know that the Nation & Bauer test, a successor to Ivanov-Haskel vocabulary test, showed that Danny's (receptive and productive) vocabulary is better than that of 99.75% of the population, which explains that conversations with Danny are different. We have a standing 9:02 AM (sharp) daily phone call to discuss how everything is. This is the dialogue of this morning:

Me: Yo, Danny, what up, how you been, how was last night?

Danny: Good morning to you, my friend. I hope it is a grandiose onset of a new day. I am most grateful for your kind inquiry, and feel I ought to narrate to you of proceedings taking place whilst me visiting the Starbucks establishment at King and Bay yesterday in the mid-afternoon.

Me: Yo, Danny, but you don't drink coffee. I do hope you had a pleasant experience there, anyways.

Danny: If I were to report truthfully, I would have to say that the visitation was the opposite of enjoyable, and I do not foresee future occasions where my shadow darkens their doorstep at King and Bay, or other, sundry, locations.

Me: Yo, Danny, what happened, pray tell?

Danny: I most politely greeted and approached the server, who carries the ludicrous and ridiculous title of "barista", and requested a fill of my water bottle, and, if not too much trouble, the addition of four ice cubes therein. The cog, upon questioning me about having already made a purchase and my replying in the negative, informed me that "unfortunately," the company policy has been altered in a way that obliges him to deny my petition. 

Me: Yo, Danny, that is indeed unfortunate. How did you respond?

Danny: I felt an intense hot rage racing through my veins and, with great force and righteous anger and indignation flung the water bottle at this character, not meaning to harm them as a person but to protest the cupidity and covetousness of the corporation they serve and represent vis-à-vis us, the collective clientele. Regretably, my demonstration of disapproval was misconstrued and, subsequently, authorities whose obligation (among others) is to maintain law and order in the land were summoned to conduct an interview with the purpose and objective to establish facts. 

Me: Yo, Danny, they called the police on you, yeah?

Danny: In the light of the fact that my aim and accuracy did not match the level of force I used to propel the projectile, and as such, it did not appear to have made contact with the target, taking into consideration that I presented my case with utmost skill and made a solemn pledge not to return to the location, the two constables demanded from me an expression of regret which I reluctantly ascended to, upon which they assured me that no charges will be fortcoming, escorted me off premises and wished me a pleasant rest of the day. 

Me: Yo, Danny, you got barred from Starbucks, yeah?

Danny: It does appear to be so, not to put too fine a point on it, but on the positive side, I received many complimentary mentions regarding my hair.

Me: Yo, Danny, you always do.

In Which Some Stuff Makes Sense (and then Some Doesn't)

Pat Coloman Barber has exceptionally beautiful legs and feet. That much is obvious. What is not immediately apparent is Pat's bizarre conversation.

The following dialogue is from when we went for coffee.

- How you doin', Pat?

- Slingshot blue for medium taste without Harem coupling bling

- You don't say?

- Belfast orange burning flat calapasnium random fresh organ failure miso soup

- I am not sure I know exactly what you mean

- Gilded cream Tripanosoma furious bicycle prime-video adverbial descending park

- You may have a point there, Pat

- Rings with things, kings springs in slings

So now that we were entering the versification stage, I knew that we were coming up to the surface.

- Fair is foul, and foul is fair; Hover through fog and filthy air.

Double, double toil and trouble;

Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.

- Macbeth, Act 4, Scene 1, you start making sense, Pat.

- I always made sense

- So what do you want, now?

- What I want today is what I had tomorrow

I smiled and said

- Gilgamesh blend standard poodle mix

Pat smiled and said

- Mick, you are so full of shit

ABC Discovers Useless Aptitude and Talent

Andrew Bysshe Cole (known to all as ABC) sat at the boardroom table with the rest of the council. He was supremely bored.
Michael Shelley (known to all as Shelly), a stickler for detail and process, was going line-by-line, item-by-item through the yearly report. He was making sure that the "approved by the board" stamp meant what it said.
Andrew was very familiar with the document. His team wrote it, and he edited it, so he just sat there playing with his pen. It was beautiful, 14 karat gold, had come with a free custom inscription (made it Andrew B. Cole), a lifetime warranty, and complimentary refills for as long as you own it. These days, he mostly typed or tapped; so he didn't use the pen so much, but he always carried it

Out of boredom, Andrew started sketching Shelly on his legal pad. He was struck by how realistic his drawing looked after just a few strokes. He added some shading and suddenly stared at a perfect portrait. Wow! As Shelly wrapped up "Planned v. Actual" and started "Forward Looking and Profit Projection", Andrew tried another drawing. He picked Appolonia Curtiz (known to all as Poppy), sitting at the front. He was amazed at how quickly and easily he captured not only a good likeness but also the VP for corporate HR's shifty-eyed expression and menacing look.

He realized that he had a talent hidden from him for all these years. He worked hard to get into Uni, graduated well, got a job, worked harder, and got ahead in the company. He was making 350k a year plus bonuses of twice or three times that much. His condo was paid off, and he had money in the bank. Andrew was very satisfied with his life. At family gatherings, he was the center of attention, admiration and envy

His cousin Gwen Cole (known to all as Gecko) was a talented painter. She worked hard, graduated, tops, was well regarded by critics and fellow artists, had shows and exhibitions, and was represented by a good gallery, but sold few pieces. Gwen was always broke and relied on teaching art classes and on her partner for rent and expenses. Andrew had a couple of her paintings, which he really liked, Gwen thought them as pitty purchases.

Andrew was suddenly horrified by the realisation that his life would have been so much different had he discovered and pursued his artistic talent. He quickly tore up the two drawings.

Shelly stopped reading and asked, "ABC, alright?"

Andrew smiled, nodded, "All cool, Shelly, no worries," and he put away the pen.

Aoife Hits Back and Something Bad Happens to Simon

Simon Palm was tall, athletic, with dark brown wavy hair and light brown eyes, a gorgeous young man by any measure. He often boasted that he could get "any chick anytime" he wanted and that "nothing bad could happen to him". Simon was on the track team, running the 800m, and captained the college Lacrosse team.

Aoife O'Graidy, Simon's girlfriend, was the typical Irish beauty. Slender and delicate, she had auburn hair and emerald green eyes to go with her glowing milk-white complexion. She moved with the easy grace of a fairy gliding over the waters. Wherever the pair went, they became the center of attention and attracted (envious) admiration.

Luca Brazzi* was Simon's best friend; he called him Brother Luke. He was big, frightfully muscular, and exuded physical strength. Luca was an assistant captain of the wrestling team. He had numerous relationships with girls from the campus that rarely lasted longer than a few months. His breakups were friendly and he sometimes returned to past girlfriends.

Simon cheated on Aoife constantly. It was casual hook-ups just for sex, limited to a few trysts. He had had waitresses, girls from his classes, and almost all of Aoife's girlfriends. Aoife was aware of his indiscretions, and he knew she knew, and she knew he knew she knew, but she was fine with it as he was always polite and thoughtful, bought her gifts, took her to parties, and on vacations.

This one evening, Simon dropped by Aoife's place and found her naked in bed and Luca in the shower. He went white and then red in the face, and couldn't speak for a moment, babbling, "You horrible, horrible whore, how could you do this to me?" Aoife pulled up the sheet to her neck and replied, "You cheated many times", to which he shouted, "But you fucked Brother Luke," and stormed out. Simon, in fury, drove to the Liquor store, bought a quart of Bourbon, and stopped in the parking lot behind the stadium. He sat wailing and drinking, crying and slapping his head with his fists. After a while, very drunk, he started to drive home. The car hit a post exiting the parking lot, but Simon accelerated down the street. At 4th and Oak, in front of the Community Foundation Building, he missed the turn and drove head-on into the wall. When the police arrived, they pronounced him dead at the scene at nine-oh-two PM.

I guess something bad can happen to anyone.

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* sometimes spelt Brasi

Daria's Poem "Of Whom I Often Think but Rarely See"

I met Nancy* in a pub in Wuppertal, we had shots of Korn and pints of  Wuppertaler Malz and she told me her remarkable story. She was born in Cadiz. Her mother, Sister Allegra, was a nun of the Daughters of Charity (DC) of St. Vincent de Paul in Jerusalem. At an inter-faith event she met Father Ara Melikian, a priest at the Armenian Patriarchate of Saint James. It may have been the Devil, may have been the Lord, but they fell instantly, permanently and violently in love and started an intense and passionate sexual relationship. Armenian Orthodox priests marry but DC nuns are sworn to purity. They broke their vows of marriage and chastity (respectively). They could not fight the physical urge and serpentine temptation and, had sex with passion most unbridled several times a week. It was not long before Sister Allegra noticed changes in her body and suspected that she was with child. Saying that she wanted to be closer to her Spanish roots, she requested transfer to the Cadiz DC monastery where her aunt, Mother Catalina was the abbes. She confessed of her sins and condition. The monastery had an orphanage, a hospice, a library, a soup-kitchen and a soccer team. The abbess said that she will be protected until she gave birth, and then she can decide what to do. 

A year and a half later, Sister Allegra returned to Jerusalem with a beautiful baby girl that she said kept for her sister. Father Ara knew the truth and demanded his daughter. He threatened to destroy her, so Allegra relented. The baby was baptized Daria Darianian as a member of the Armenian Apostolic Church.

Nancy said "I was that child". She grew up in spirituality and did so well in school that she was admitted to study Languages and Literature at the University of Wuppertal. She was already fluent in Armenian, Hebrew, Arabic, Spanish, French and English, so German came naturally. To support herself, she became a exotic dancer (she hated to say "stripper"). She said she was an "Hija del pecado**" and hated her parents with fierce passion: hypocrites, blind guides, snakes, and a brood of vipers, she called them. 

She became a poet, and her first book, ”Sad Leaves, Happy Trees" was an huge critical success. It drew  on her night-time experience. The opening poem, "Of Whom I Often Think but Rarely See", was nominated by the Deutsche Mittelwestliche Literaturgesellschaft*** for the annual prize of debut poem by young poet (Nancy won a diploma and  €150).

I was fascinated by her story. Nancy borrowed a pen from a waitress and wrote me a Haiku on a napkin:

                                            Who/when/where sees you naked,

                                            Doctor, nurse, girlfriends, boyfriends, cool,

                                            Des todos modos.

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* her name was Magill, she called herself Lil, but everybody knew her as Nancy

** a child (daughter) of sin

*** German Mid-West Literary Society

The cleverer of you will identify texts from the Beatles, Bob Dylan and the Bible (Matthew 23.33)

Food Adventures in Toledo

In November of 1995 I went to Toledo to see "The Burial of the Count of Orgaz" in the Iglesia de Santo Tomé and the Museo El Greco. 

After the visits I walked the quiet, narrow streets with small houses, peaceful atmosphere away from the tourist area. I was happy. Happy and hungry, that is. I decided to turn left at the next corner and then turn left again at the next corner and go into the first eating place I see. There it was, El Peñón, a tavern for locals with a menu only in Spanish. I managed "una copa de vino tinto, por favor" and looked at the six items on the list. The second from the bottom read "Codornices a la Toledana". I thought it must be a local specialty. When the waiter came, I pointed to it "Este, por favor, señor.". He seemed pleased and said something at the supersonic speed Spaniards use in normal conversation. I smiled "Si, claro, muchisimas gracias".

It didn't take long and I was staring at a plate with two beautiful, plump, juicy birds in a fragrant sauce. That is how I learned that codornices is Spanish for quails. They were delicious. I had more wine and crusty bread and was even more happy (and hungry no more). I carved out the two wishbones* for keepsakes.

 . 

Outside, back on the cobbled streets trying to figure the way to the bus station, I happened upon a nice English couple studying the city map. Always happy to share a good experience, I said to them: "If you want a really good lunch go to that place over there and order the quail, want me to write it down for you?". They smiled gratefully and said ”Cheers, mate, our Spanish is proper, codorniz, right?” ”Yeah, that's the one."

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* furcula (from Latin) is a forked bone formed by fused clavicles in birds. It is known popularly as wishbone,

String Quartet and Peanut Butter in Setúbal

The city of  Setúbal is by far the most Portuguese of all Lusitane cities and that is why I selected it for my research. The site was to be Taberna do Largo on Dr. Francisco Soveral, close to Mercado do Livramento. When I first walked in, I knew I had the right spot.

I was looking for singles with sad faces. Sad faces are easy to find as many Iberians are set in a permanent frown, the challenge was to get them to talk. 

Alonso was at a table with a beer and a small plate of snacks. He is a composer who makes a decent living scoring movies and TV series, which allows him to work on his symphony. I asked the question for my project: "Did you recently break up with your partner?" He said he did. He confessed that, after a rehearsal, he had sex  with the girl playing the oboe. "How did your girlfriend find out?" Alonso said that he told her, as he thought they had a good thing together and he didn't want to lie. "How did that make you feel?" "Sexually abandoned." "What do you do after a break-up?" Alonso looked even sadder: "I compose a string quartet, this one is Opus Two, Number Six." Suddenly he jumped up and said he had to rush as he just had a great idea for the Rondo of the fourth movement.  

Iria sat at a table in the back with a glass of wine. She is from San Leandro, California, USA and teaches MTM* at the Politecnico Setubal. I asked if she recently broke up and could we talk about it. She told me that after a department party, slightly drunk, she had sex with a pretty PhD student called Lolo. A few days later, as she thought they had a good thing together and didn't want to lie, she told her partner the truth. They broke up. "What do you do after a break-up?" Iria told me that she eats peanut butter sandwiches with Sriracha on cornbread. She has to order the peanut butter and Sriracha on Amzoron**. I asked if that helps and she was close to tears and just shrugged. 

I thanked her and wanted to leave when she grabbed my arm and asked me what I do after a break-up. It was only fair to tell her the truth. "I listen to German love songs from the thirties, forties and fifties. Zarah Leander, Marlene Dietrich, Hildegard Knef." Iria asked if it helps ... I just shrugged.

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* I did not know what MTM is but didn't ask as not to interrupt

** You know which one I mean