seeing stars

Yesterday, while a-wandering back to my car, with the boyfriend and his bike in tow, I swear I recognized the slight frame and demure face of one of my heroes. He was sitting outside Ti Couz (image of tables on sidewalk).

I elbowed Mr. Photo who was ignoring lowly humans bustling by and searching buildings for architectual detail he wanted shoot. By the time we got to the ever-hip corner of 16th & Valencia (where else could you find lanky hipsters, a Latina drag bar, used bookstores and lanky heroin addicts—sometimes hipster, sometimes not), we turned around and saw the back of the head of my prey. Across the table from him (and some otherwise unrecognizable friends) was a much wildly-coiffed and tall man. Do all the cool kids know each other in NYC? Were they post-SXSW nerd/intellectual/pop-culture/film pals?

Now, I’m not 100% sure that either man was whom his likeness proclaimed, but I’d like to pretend they both were. I like the idea that these different people not only knew one another, but perhaps are dating (totally projecting here). The more imposing, wild-looking one known for well-thought prose and the smaller, mild-looking one famous for his flamboyent stage and film creation—ironic, no?

I hope John Cameron Mitchell and Malcolm Gladwell enjoyed their crepes.

Comments are closed.