cimorene

with mom and dad i was in a vacation town strolling around an historic downtown district--some unholy combination of hot springs, arkansas, ste. genevieve, missouri, and one of those western ghost towns from colorado.

and i was dithering back and ran into david bowie. 'oh!' i said. 'you're david bowie!' i got some kind of charming polite response. 'i watched basquiat recently,' i said. 'i thought that was really fascinating. your portrayal of andy warhol was just brilliant.' something something, i said i was very interested in it. he said he hadn't thought about it for a long time, and he was interested too. he spoke with a sort of british version of his warhol accent (i don't listen to his music very much, only when daddy plays it; god knows what he really sounds like). i said, 'you know, my mother's an art teacher, and she really likes warhol. she really enjoyed the movie too. the end was sad though.' something about him dying.

so i called mom back and we had a long and really fascinating conversation which i can't remember now, and i was really pleased, and oddly enough, not at all sexually attracted to him... okay, maybe it's not odd; he is quite old, older than my parents, i think.

and when i woke up, i was thinking, dammit, WHY didn't i ask him what he thought of the lack of boytouching in the movie?!