Robert Manners

Again with the Nothing to Say

I seem to be in a mental space that lacks introspection. I'm not having insights into my own behavior, or the behavior of others. Or at least I'm not remembering them when I have time to sit and write. It's rather dissatisfying.



On Friday I went out with Caroline to Bay Street, where we saw Chicago. God, that's a great movie! It was just as good the second time as the first! The choreography and camera-work involved in the musical numbers just kill me. Especially that bit when the lights flash on at the beginning of "Hot Honey Rag," I swear I just about pee my pants. Afterward Caroline was so jazzed up (pun intended) that we absolutely had to go to Tower and get her a copy of the soundtrack. While there I hit the Used CD bins and replaced my lost copy of the Charlie's Angels soundtrack and picked up the soundtracks to The Producers and Topsy Turvy. I also picked up VHS copies of The Thin Man and Brotherhood of the Wolf. Caroline and I then went back to my house and watched the latter video, rather enjoying it though we didn't always understand what was going on (it's French, you know, and the French always find it necessary to confuse people). We both now wish we had black lace fans with razor-sharp knives protruding from the tops of the staves.



Isn't that terribly fascinating? Don't you wish you were me?



Yesterday I woke up early (9 am) and got up and did my email and reading ritual; but by the time I checked in on Jhames, I noticed my leg jogging up and down again. I decided that what I really needed to do was force myself to have some quiet time... if I let this manic energy run my life, it will run me right into exhaustion. So I got back in bed with a selection of films — The Thin Man, of course, along with Murder By Death, Gosford Park, and Plunkett & MacLeane. That lasted me until about five, when I got up and dressed myself and went out to Concord to have dinner with my Daddy.



I had intended to go to Tahoe Joe's, a place my aunts rave about. I'd eaten there once and was rather impressed by the food, though somewhat put off by the heinous decor and the atmosphere of Drunken Frat Party, a place where they encourage the imbibing of cocktails that have coyly suggestive names and more than ten ingredients and which, even at the height of my drinking days, I wouldn't have condescended to spit into. But I figured Daddy would enjoy it, and I couldn't think of anything else out in his neck of the woods (my knowledge of Concord's eateries being quite limited).



Of course, when we got there, at 7 on a Saturday night, there was a bit of a crowd... and a 60 to 75 minute wait for a table for two. Daddy was starving to death, since he usually eats dinner at 5, and I was pretty hungry too, having subsisted all day on one piece of toast and a hunk of cheese, so we decided to try our luck elsewhere. All the other elsewheres we thought of also had huge crowds, though. We drove about pointlessly for almost 20 minutes before Daddy expressed a desire for prime rib... and that word suggested the Hungry Hunter, which I had seen out of the corner of my eye as we drove down Willow Pass Road.



The great irony was that, with about a half-hour wait at Hungry Hunter, and the twenty or so minutes that we spent driving around looking for a restaurant, we only saved about ten minutes off the waiting-time from Tahoe Joe's. But at least we were spending time in the car or in a nice quiet lobby instead of amongst crowds and crowds of people. Daddy's a little bit deaf, and babbling crowds make it difficult for him to hear anything.



So anyway, he had a pound of prime rib, and I had the lamb chops, with salad and soup and all that sort of thing. The meat was yum, the soup was quite nice, and the salad okay. The desserts, when presented, were unconscionable (they all had either a grotesque combination of chocolates and caramels, or were made of sweet liqueurs), so we just had coffee and talked for a while. We had a very nice time altogether, eating and talking and whatnot. I seldom get a chance to spend much time alone with my father, and often when we are alone we're both tired and quiet, so this was a very pleasant bonding experience between us. After dinner, we went back to his place and I helped him restore some old programs that he'd lost when he bought a new hard-drive, and I taught him how to play Free Cell.



So now here we are on Sunday, and I'm typing, and getting ready to go over to San Francisco for my Musical rehearsal, then I need to grocery-shop and then vacuum the living-room, and that's about all that's going on in my mind. I've started reading Gide's Lafcadio's Adventures and am rather enjoying it; perhaps later I will have some observations to make on that text. Next week I'm going to see Dame Edna Everidge at the Curran, and that will no doubt give me something to talk about. Next weekend I have two drag shows in a row. The following Wednesday I have a dentist appointment. And it is with these inanities that I occupy my brain today.



Oh well, I can't be brilliant every day, can I?