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 By Brian Michael Barbeito Nov. 23, 2005 It was a Wednesday afternoon. The middle of the work week. It was ten in the morning or thereabouts. I was lifting case after case of Luckey Lager beer out of a van and returning the empties into the beer store. Luckey Lager was twenty four dollars for twenty four beer. It tasted alright too. In fact, it tasted great. The no frills case might as well of just read, 'Beer.' It had red, white, and blue markings on it, that made it seem somehow American. While getting in the van, I noticed that there was a lady who looked a bit lost. I couldn't believe my eyes. It was Anais Nin. I said, 'Hey, Anais, whatcha doin,' and Anais looked up with smart knowing eyes, kind eyes. 'Do I know you, sir,' said Anais. I told her that she most certainly did not, but that she had become pretty famous in some circles, and that they wanted me to read her notebooks in school, but that I hadn't been much for school. I told her that there had even been a perfume named after her...that it was called Anais Anais, as if one name wasn't good enough. It turned out that Anais was outside of the variety store, because she was looking for a place with some envelopes, in order that she could mail some letters. We walked along the strip plaza for a bit and this is what she said; 'I've been here for a week, living in a small apartment, and writing. Its quite cold, but I went for some walks. The people seemed quite occupied. I could find no good cafe or place to sit and write. The nights were filled with crisp air, and the sky was inspiring. The signs of the eateries are quite bright, lit up with interesting lights and colors. My clothing seems plain in contrast with some of the outfits I have seen. I am happy with my old cotton sweater though, and my writing materials. I've got to be going soon, perhaps the day after tomorrow. She said something else too, about how people we meet can be a sort of signal, or button, that opens up a world within ourselves, a world that was waiting to be explored. I didn't get it at the time, and still don't, though I am now and again understanding it, bit by bit. She was cool...with her medium sized brown-yellowish envelopes under her arm, walking away. They either hadn't given her a bag for those envelopes, or she had refused one, or had thrown it out or pocketed it before I saw her. Thats how Anais Nin was one day, by a five and dime, as I saw her... ------------ About the author: Brian Michael Barbeito lives in Aurora, Ontario, Canada. His two most recent books are Medium Double Double Milk (non-fiction) and Fluoride And The Electric Light Queen (poems), neither currently published. Email: Brian1750@Hotmail.com Tell a friend about this site! ------------ All articles are EXCLUSIVE to Useless-Knowledge.com and are not allowed to be posted on other websites. ARTICLE THIEVES WILL BE PROSECUTED! |
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