Slip out the Back Jack
The subtlety of this life is what I've come to be so in love with. The details that bring people to share time with eachother when they ordinarily wouldn't. Or shouldn't. Or maybe they should. That's what I'm picking at today.

Last evening I sang. I drank me some drinks, I grew me some nuts, I took off my shirt and I let loose (Hey, I had a tank top on underneath). It was pretty much a disaster, and by the time I finally figured out how the song worked, it was over. But forget about that. It doesn't matter, I'm over it. The detail that tosses our little story into action, was the song that I chose: '50 Ways to Leave your Lover.'

Oh yeah, you do remember that song by Paul Simon. It's a little story about a man stuck in a bad relationship who turns to a woman for advise. He gets some good advise. Real good. Hubba-hubba. Get's himself free and shit.

So I fight my way through the song and head back to the bar to fight my way through another drink. And man was Mike impressed by how I could embarass myself on a whole new level. He calls it 'postmodern'.

Now I don't remember the segway, which must mean that it was really good, but a stranger materialized in front of me. He's from Barcelona, Spain. Fascinating.

Mike decides to push off. He's done. I don't blame him. He's about postmoderned out.

The Spaniard and I sit down at a table next to a woman. The stranger begins to tell me about his girlfriend. That's her, right there next to him. He's been with her for two years and he can't understand why. Me either. He's hot. She's sitting right there. He hands me his card. I think he must be joking. Just e-mail me he said. I object...because....she is sitting right there! Oblivious! Just e-mail me.

A man comes to the table and sits down next to me at our table. He's got a pretty face and sandy blond hair, and is as gay as I'll get out. We get along famously. (I'll be a diva in my future life.) Suddenly, he motions for me to get up. He'd like to buy me a drink at the bar, and I need to get up and go to the bar with him to get it. Like, right now. At the bar. Drink. Now.

A jack and coke is what he orders for me. Strange, come to think of it, because people only order shots for other people, they never tell you what to drink.

That girl is my friend he says. Susanna right? I ask. Susanna. I've known her for years, she's great. Yeah I've met her a couple of times and she seems really cool. She is. But that guy... Her boyfriend right? ...Yeah, him, I can't stand him. We don't like eachother at all. Apparently, he is interested in you...

Manuel walks up interrupting. Probably he is very curious about the pow wow going on. He stares us down, and the jack-and-coke guy pulls me outside where we can talk.

What he proposed to me is that I pursue this... Manuel. I don't get it I said. Listen, he said, this is my motivation: I can't stand this guy. My friend should dump him, but she never will. Call him. Go out with him. Please.
I can't say for sure, but I'll consider it.

Would you please explain about the fifty ways.

So, what to do. I read the business card today

Manuel H. Basora
Artist

Images by Basora
Visualizing the Unseen

Phone: 214-344-5215
e-mail: basorame@hotmail.com

The first time I met Susana, it was Christmas Eve a few years ago. Somebody had punched her in the face and her eyes were shining. That was it, and she was done with the looser and she'd kicked him out. For as long as he'd stay out I guess.

I think I'll e-mail him and ask if he's the very same.