Friday, June 18, 2004

I meant to write last night, but the night got away from me as it so often does.
Yesterday morning I met Crazy Horse. He was drinking on a curb and had me come over and talk to him. You know, if you put me in the middle of a room of a hundred other sane people and let one crazy person in the room, they would come straight to me. I know why too. I talked to Crazy Horse for a good twenty minutes. He spoke to me in Apache (which was strange because he told me he was Sioux) and told me that the sky went with me. Then he went through a big list of famous Native Americans and asked me if I'd heard of them as if he was then going to tell me something mind-blowing about them. But he never did. He just kept asking "You ever hear of Geronimo?"
"Yes."
Pause. "You ever hear of Chief Joseph?"
After about five of these I told him I was going to move on and I wished him well.
Later I asked Pat about him and Pat told me he knew of Crazy Horse because he'd been banned from the Jesus Center. Pat said Crazy Horse gets terribly violent when he gets really drunk. I told Pat I must have gotten out of there just in time.

Those are the kind of people I meet when I'm walking around. I never seem to meet, say, the girl I had a crush on who used to work in the Barnes and Noble when I lived in Orange County. If I'd met her yesterday morning, my whole day might have been different. Maybe much worse or maybe much better of a day. Of course, if that had happened I might not have seen the yo-yo, so I guess meeting Crazy Horse instead of the Orange County Barnes and Noble girl was providential.
I'd only meet her in the Barnes and Noble and I know better than to ask out people who are working when I'm a customer. There's a great scene in Adaptation in a restaurant that's happened to me once or twice before. One girlfriend I met when she was working in a Hallmark store and she ended up highly ranked among the more abusive women I've dated.
So beware. Make sure you don't become the enamoured consumer. Take it from me.

And speaking of Adaptation, I think we can all agree that it's time to put a ban on the books of adapting literature into film. Adaptation kind of seemed like the last word on turning books into films, but then they keep doing it. It's almost always a bad idea and yet Hollywood keeps churning them out. That's because there are so few ideas out there. I think there are two or three good examples of this in theaters right now if I'm not mistaken.
There have been a few good adaptations out there. I think Adaptation is one. Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, The Godfather, sure but these are the exceptions that prove the rule.
We should hop to it and do this before the film version of Neil Gaiman's Death series goes into production (I think it's to be based on the less good one about the whiney grunge boy instead of the really good one about the lesbian couple.) You'd think Gaiman would have learned from his friend Alan Moore. But I don't blame the author. If somebody offered me a million dollars to make an idea of mine into something that I knew would die out long before my book did, I'd do it in a heart beat. I'd sell out in a second if somebody was buying. I could easily live the rest of my life on a million dollars.

But I'm way way off track now. I was talking about my day.

Yesterday afternoon I was starting to get a little down and lonely when I stumbled on the information that the world's largest yo-yo is on display at the National Yo-Yo Museum here in Chico. I thought, "Well, what am I doing sitting around here?"
It's wood and about four and a half feet tall. There's a picture of when they dropped it from a crane to show it really works. Then there are a lot of yo-yos in display cases. I'd hazard a guess that there's also the world's largest public display of autographs from Tom Smothers too. I don't know why that trip cheered me up so much. I guess there's a little magic in things like that. There's hope in the unique and bizzar

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