Koko Taylor in Paris

Paris, Summer 2001: On the way to the Belgian E-Tap Seminar, my flight paused in Paris, and so did I.

In the Montparnasse district ("arrondissement"), I had a narrow hotel, whose view of the street below my second-floor room revealed a hustling little shop of fresh produce, several ambiguous doorways, and a musical trio busking for money in colorful costumes. It was all so colorful I could just spit in a delirium of foreignicity.

In the morning I would carry my Megatar over to Le Bass Shoppe, where the proprietor would express quiet interest, on which I would later fail to follow up most completely.

Last night, arriving late, I'd had a late supper at the nearest cafe, and it could have been the same place where Hemingway and Picaso and Satie and Coco Chanel and Kay Boyle created the world of art once upon a time.

Last night, jet lag fagged and flattened me, but tonight? What to do tonight?

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The Ten-Yard Dash

Fort Mason, San Francisco, 1989: It was late night, and the air cool in the parking lot beside the bay. Over the murmer of the movie set, I could just hear the gentle sound of the water, lapping beneath the wharf.

I'd just emerged from Blue Bear School of Music, where I played touch-style bass in a "learn how to play" band, and outside I suddenly found a movie being made. I wandered among the movie folk, striking up a conversation with the sound man, who was bundled up heavy but shifting from foot to foot from the cool air. Hah! Tenderfoot to San Francisco!

As we spoke, Sigourney Weaver walked around a corner, and stood waiting a few feet away.

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Ruru the Guru is the only Telepathic Operator?

San Francisco Yellow Pages, 1986: In the Yellow Pages that year you'd find listed "Third Ear Telepathic Answering Service" at 221-3333. If you called it you might hear this --

"Hello and thank you for calling Third Ear Telepathic Answering Service, the round-the-clock telepathic answering service!

"I am your Host and Operator Ruru the Guru, speaking to you direct from the Himalaya Hideaway.

"Hold it! Hold the phone! I'm getting a telepathic message at this very minute!

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Death, Passing By

Henrietta, Texas 1953: Being 9 years old, I was walking home from school. It was quite safe then. Ricky Moyer walked along with me, and Bradley, the high school kid, stopped his 1948 black Mercury, to let us pass.

"Give us a ride!" called out Ricky.

"Get on the hood!" yelled Bradley.

So we did.

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