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September 3, 2004
Lestat's and the Ghosts That Pass
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Loui snapped this one of me just today. I suppose if you spend
as much time at Lestat�s as I do these days, you get your picture
taken. My days here are strange and empty, yet I have never
learned so much in my life. I come here everyday for at least a
couple hours.
Three songs have met me here in this very chair. The hum of
Adam�s Avenue is comforting, as are the people who mill its
sidewalks. Of the people in Normal Heights:
I am convinced they sleep in picture frames that hang on walls of
Victorian houses along the side streets that empty their waters
into the tide of Adam�s Avenue.
My new friend Paul, the
book enthusiast, and one of the first people I have met who
forms a strong argument against the theories behind
Noam Chomsky, is here almost as
much as I am. Today he is head deep in a game of chess with a
woman I have not yet met.
Ruben is another. His wife left him 2 weeks ago. That is the first
thing I heard him say actually. He walked up, and said, �My wife
left me.� I saw him again yesterday. He shouted from across the
street but I didn�t make it out. I could, however, tell that it was a
joke so I laughed. And then he smiled.
Then there is Chuck from the Calvary Baptist Church up by USD.
He walked by with his Bible and I asked him �So what do you
make of all this?� He asked, �all of what?� I circled my arm in the
air to include everything around us�. �All of this.� He answered
me graciously but cautiously and then wrote down directions to
his church. I will go.
And then there is Loui, the photographer of the above photo and
the booking manager/sound engineer for
Lestat�s West. He is truly one of the best in San Diego. Apart
from his room always sounding incredible, he really cares about
the
artists who stumble in and out of his club every night. He is a
fan of music and a fan of musicians. I know Loui very little, yet,
3 days ago I was in his office and he told me that he was sorry
for what I was going through. I don't know how he found out,
but I could tell that
he cared.
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