I get a kick out of profiling people. As I noted in last year’s 3.7 post, “The Zelig,” I also enjoy profiling others’ profiling ability when they assess me. Kudos to the person who surmises, on little data, that I’m educated, a former teacher, or love to sing and dance. When I learn that someone is suspicious of my integrity, I find it good to know that I’ve met someone I should invest no more time in.
I was therefore very impressed when someone, with no evidence of any kind, intuited that I was a writer. “I just know my own kind,” he responded, “and I also do a little open mic stand-up.”
I clarified that thus far I was a failing writer, but stand-up comedy was something I’d like to try failing at as well.
“Yeah, I haven’t made any money off either, but I’m hoping to and just having fun in the meantime.”
“Where do you do it?”
“Not around here, yet. I’ve only been here a couple days and will probably leave soon. No idea where. I guess you could call me a ‘drifter’.”
“You did say ‘drifter’ and not ‘grifter,’ right?”
“Good one, amigo. You used to teach, I’ll bet.”
“Jesus Christ! I didn’t expect this kind of Spanish Intuition. But you’re right.”
He cocked his head and shrugged his shoulders.
“So, do you, like, throw a dart at a map to decide where you drift to next? If so, I wouldn’t want for you to end up in Redneck, Indiana or anything.”
“A Mexican like me? No thanks. I just look for signs and kind of follow my gut.”
“Let me help you out then, by which I mean ‘Fuck with you’.” I began singing lines from “Dancing in the Street,” stressing the pronunciation of each city. “They’re dancin’ in Chicago, down in New Orleans, can’t forget that Motor City–“
“Enough, enough my friend. I’m already confused. Since I can tell you’re good people, you feel like seeing the country with me?”
“I’ve thought about that before, but I’ve kind of got my niche carved out down here, shitty as it is.”
“I’ve only ever invited good people before, but no one ever does. I wish you the best, my friend.”
“Likewise, brother. And just remember, ‘All we need is music, sweet, sweet sweet music’–“
“I thought all you needed was love.”
“You’re on your own there, dude.”