No Beer-Can Crushing Boobies. Sorry

I know where I was supposed to go, but as you all know, plans change. Fast and suddenly. So was the case yesterday. As tempting as it was to see Blondie squeeze our discarded cans of PBR between her un-inflated bosoms, we decided against it. We visited my cousin J’s house, and saw the family for a bit, and met a couple of her friends. One of them, “A”, had an unnatural fear of going home and finding a large black man with a machete waiting for her in her living room. When asked if a large white man with a knife would be different, she admitted it might still be bad…. But fear took the form of a black guy for her. Go figure. Apparently nun-chuck wielding ninjas and gun toting Mexican’s are just not scary enough. Needles to say, she did not come with us, I don’t care how cute she was.

So, the three of us, (J, H, and G) headed to a little area called East Atlanta. A quaint place surrounded by good beer drinking spots and a myriad of personalities that continually add spice to my city. It was three or four bar-hops later that we ran into some folks I haven’t seen in months. It was the perfect finish to a great evening. I saw so many personalities, travelled the city in the company of the folks that I love, and had the opportunity to chat with people which only enrich my life, and the voices of my characters.

It is on nights, weekends, and weeks like these that I find inspiration, true inspiration, to continue my work, and keep writing. I want to write them all into my book, though I know it only make it over crowded. I will, however, write them all in my books. All the ones to come – published or not – I want to capture at least a sliver of the fantastic people I have been so lucky to encounter.

And so I say, with only a small smirk: Thank you Atlanta. Good night.

What is Facebook Etiquette?

Pondering upon the new way of making contacts and friends online, meeting people whom otherwise I probably would never have come in contact with, I’m curious about how to properly establish the digital relationship. This is not to be confused with my digital-porn relationship, that’s a whole different subject.

Friend request sent, friend request accepted, and now I have a new little face in my “friends” box and a new tick under the number of friends. Which is weird in itself. I don’t recall spending my childhood days keeping account in my brown leather journal of how many friends I had. It’s not like when Javier took my wallet and dunk it in the boys room toilet, I went into my little notebook and crossed him off my “number of friends” list, scratching out 28 to 27. That asshole.

Nevertheless, here we are. And now that I have accepted the friend request, do I go and start commenting on my new friend’s pictures and posts like we are long lost buddies? Notice, I don’t ask if it was acceptable to go through the pictures, because, let’s face it, that’s happening regardless. Those pictures, the personal info wall, and the “likes” are absorbed with such scrutiny it would make the cavity search guy at the airport jealous.

Or better yet, should I initiate with a humble “I Like” on their current status, to warm each other up to our presence in one anothers life? On the hand, one could just dive right in the middle of the action, not unlike Steven Seagal, jumping in the middle of bilingual super-stealth ninjas turned yakuza-mafiosos (with outstanding Armani suits and swords): Kicking ass, not caring about names, and never, ever, losing his cool as much as to flake off his hair gel. Hmmm, I often think about this. I don’t have to worry about gel anymore, but would love to know how you approach your new, never-shook-hands-with, friends.