A Dallas Observer alternative paper, released on Thursdays. The short line, cafeteria style. "Turkey plate, no sauce". Green beans, corn on the cob.
A Diet Coke in a big tumbler. No ice. A roll. No butter. Never butter, never margarine. Yeast.
Seat by the window, away from people. Cover story on Kristy Kruger, folk chanteuse, a myspace friend,whom I do not know at all, even in the loose form of myspace terms. I just liked her songs. The music critic writes about how three years ago, at the tender age of 21, he was intimidated to meet local celebrities among the rock and folk bands.
It reminds me of being 10, being impressed by the six a.m. agricultural reporter
outside an animal barn at the actual Arkansas state fair, a thing almost as cool as the cool blue of Future Farmers of America jackets, which I never owned.
I idly wonder about Friday night-- a Kristy Kruger CD release party. The alternative paper says Kristy used to live in LA,as I did, but she went to study the music business. I was there for something to do with reinsurance and insurance company insolvency. I eat my corn, my green beans, my turkey, my roll. I go back to my office.