Lauren Mollica, Chinatown 2006





Arguing With Your Moonshine
Nov 10, 2005

    I'm sitting in the Bagel Zone right now using the free airport
service to download songs by Akon. There’s a couple next to me breaking up. They’re speaking in Italian but I can tell they are amid litigation. The man, I'm assuming, is a writer, or a painter, or a photographer or possibly a janitor. He’s completely spent by whatever the hell it is he does for a living. He’s gotten out of his seat three times to leave and then walked back each time.
    I know he's a full of intallect even though I can’t understand a thing he says. I'm sure of this because he talks with his hands. In my opinion even if you are undereducated, illiterate or fluent in only Italian you can still be quite smart and articulate. Talking with ones hands is a sign of that. It’s also a sign of a passionate speaker. Like talking with your hands that way that Charles Lamb does. Sometimes half of what Charles says is expressed with constantly clasping hands plus one extended index finger or maybe just one hand resting on your shoulder.  Maybe he’s a bad example though because he’d be a great orator even if he lost both arms in a disastrous Japanese Nike riot at Supreme.
    This couple is a piece of work. The man is arguing with a girl I want to be arguing with just for the sake that I’d be having dialogue with her even if it were only an altercation.  It’d still be worth it.  She’s medium build and really beautiful. She’s beautiful because you can tell she's waiting to let loose on someone. This guy manages to tame her each time I look over and see blazing hot wrath building up in her eyes. I wish I knew what he was saying each time she almost blows up.  I don’t condone one person in a relationship knowing all the tricks to steer the other person any which way they need but their chemistry is apparent and there’s something good about that. He talks her down expertly.  They get along so well(even when they break up).  You can tell that if you (me) were to give her a window of opportunity she would pounce on you (me). Although during peacetime she's got nothing but insight and razor sharp humor to offer. She’s full of piss and vinegar. Plus she wears her jeans well. She’s Beautiful.
    I'm not sure what my point is but I think he made his because he stormed out of the cafe a second ago and she gave chase after putting her foot down for only a second. I think they are great together and I wish I spoke Italian.    
        He’s tall, owns thinning hair, has a scraggly beard thing happening and wears a standard issue army green coat. He’s a goddamned martyr. If he paints I bet he conjures images of brutal hardship and adversity. If he writes he I bet he’s a literary champion of the scorn and misunderstood.  If he’s a photographer I bet he’s spent time with orphans in Bosnia.  If he’s a damn janitor then his real passion lies in one of the above and the critics just haven’t appreciated him properly.   
    As for her. I don’t care what she does. It doesn’t matter. She’s amazing. 
    These two are straight out of cinema. They must live in a small apartment cluttered with books and paintings with a cat winding through wine bottle candleholders on top of a wax covered kitchen table. There’s probably a globe and a lot of earth tones everywhere. And the only drug they entertain must be hash. And only with their creative friends on occasion.
    I fucking love Italians. And I love wine. Hash too. Good Lord, I need a girlfriend to argue with.