ANY GOOD NEWS? Or CHATTING WITH A STRIPPER

I took a break from my job search this afternoon and hung out in the Haight. Ended up having a chocolate crepe for lunch at this little place near the corner of Haight and Ashbury. I hadn't been there since 1998. It is still the same except they have a GAP and a Jon Fluevog. ...I think the shoe store is the only thing I really like about the Haight. ...well, that and the chocolate crepe. It is kind of neat to walk along the street where hippie legends were made but it is also kind of a bummer to look at all the left-over hippies who look so lost and all the rich colllege kids trying to pretend to be hippies. Plus, it smells of booze, piss, incencse and pot. I don't know. It isn't my scene. But, I do like the old homes there. Tried to remember which house Janis Joplin lived in. Asked a kid who was on the street with me and he wasn't sure, but he he did point out the Hendrix house.

Oh, but, I got to meet ing this evening!!!! Yay! Had a blast hanging out with her! Witty, funny and beautiful! It was much fun! But, I digress ---

For some reason, I've debated whether or not I wanted to share this on my blog -- but what the hell?!?!

After reading Tuesday's newspaper, I decided to head back home. I had walked all the way from the piers to the edge of Tenderloin to have tea at this cool little café I enjoy. It was cold and looked like it might rain at any minute so I opted to take the bus back to the underground (AKA subway) MUNI to head back to Ingleside. I don’t like riding the busses. I am a magnet for oddness and it seems that they are often filled with the odd stench of mothballs and body odor, but this would be a short ride and I had my iPod.

The bus stop is not too far from one of the many strip clubs in the area. Though, seedy there is a kind of cool vibe about it. You get the feeling that in a few years these places will most likely be nothing more than a memory. To many, I think that is a good thing but I kind of like knowing that seedy isn’t too far away. Like, I am glad I got to see Times Square before it was Disney-fied. I wish I could have seen the true Times Square of the late 60’s and 70’s. That would have been interesting.

Anyway, I digress.

I stood there staring off into space milling a million thoughts through my head with the Chronicle clutched in my left hand and iPod in my right. I hadn’t turned it on yet. I like to be fully aware of what is going done around me when in these areas of town.

I caught a scent of nice perfume and then a smoky voice asked, “Any good news, baby?”

I turned. It was a pretty woman of color with her hair pinned up, an interesting sort of sweater coat, a huge purse and massive black boots with spike heels.

“No. Just bad news as per usual. Do you want it? I’m all done,” I answered.

She smiled and told me she liked the horoscope and the sports sections. She took it with thanks. We stood there waiting for the bus. She sighed.

“So, sweetie, what time is it anyway?”

I looked my watch and told her it was 3:45. She sighed again. I could feel her looking at me but I liked the way she smelled. So, since she was looking at me I asked, “You have a great scent. What are you wearing?”

She laughed. “ I knew it. You’re a gay boy. I just couldn’t quite decide. Thanks. I borrowed a few sprays on my way out. I was worried I stunk.”

I smiled, “Well, I’m queer but hardly a boy. I love you for calling me a boy, though!”

She laughed and told me that gay “dudes” stay younger than straight guys. She then said something about how she wished straight guys would start to copy “her” gay boys more. She then told me that her boots were killing her and that she had been dancing for hours. I am a little slow on the pick up, but it struck me that she must have just come out of the seedy little strip joint/bar.

“Do you dance there?” I asked.

And, her answer amused me, but not in a comical way. She answered by saying, “Dancing? Well, I guess you could call it that. I gave up on the idea of being a dancer years ago. It’s a living.”

We both turned as we heard the bus approaching. A suspect looking guy sort of came out of nowhere and walked up to her. He mumbled something and seemed to be ignoring him. I started toward the bus door, but she stayed in place. I looked and the guy had her arm. He was whispering to her and she looked annoyed. Probably not too smart of me, but I asked, “Are you ok?”

And she smiled at me and nodded to indicate she was cool. I got on the bus. I bent down and watched as the bus pulled away. She was turning and walking back toward the bar with the guy.

I turned on my iPod to shuffle and said a little prayer for her.

How much is a choice and how much is a trap? When does something from being an act of liberation to an act of desperation? Did she hate that man or was that an act on her part for his benefit?

…And, why would you elect to wear dominatrix like boots after dancing for hours?

Suzanne Palmer came on the iPod. I closed my eyes and imagined that lady dancing to the song. I wondered what her name was. I hoped it was Trixie.