I moved in to the same apartment Lauren lives in last Friday.
At first it was somewhat depressing. On the first Friday of every month, the apartment is open to outsiders to come in and peruse the works of the artists living here. In my experience there is usually a pretty good crowd. Apparently the crowds have been dwindling as of late though, and the Friday I moved in it was like a ghost town. The Chef (the same one from Lauren’s blog) was blasting away recordings of random sounds. I made a snarky comment about there being a poltergeist about. He just gave me a weird look and I scuttled off to Lauren’s room to see what she was doing.
There was nobody there, aside from her. She was trying to write songs for people, a dollar or two a pop, but the Chef’s noise was making that impossible for her. I wandered off again.
I met the Jerk With Bad Teeth at that point, along with his friends the Cello Player and the Other Musician.
“Hi, I’m Ryan.”
There were introductions all around.
“So, do you live here?” Asked the Cello Player.
“Yeah, as of today. I’m subleasing.”
We made small talk. I was getting a bad vibe from the Jerk With Bad Teeth. Then, as we parted ways, the Jerk With Bad Teeth said:
“Well, ‘bye. I’ll probably forget your name.”
Except he didn’t say it like most people do. Most people say it apologetically, as in: “I’m sorry, I’m really bad with names, so if I forget yours it’s nothing personal.” This guy? It was more like: “Well, you failed to impress me and thus are not important enough for me to remember your name.”
“I’ve already forgotten yours!” I replied with a smile. It was the one time I was actually glad to be bad with names, though for a while I felt somewhat bad for immediately pegging him as a jerk. I felt less bad after my suspicions were confirmed.
After that? After that things got better. People started coming over to Lauren’s place. I had a nice talk with one of the other people from my college now living here. I went to a folk concert in someone’s studio. Then there was beer and a deep conversation about the universe that left me in a very zen mood.
“I think you are more Buddhist than you think,” I was told.
Yeah, maybe. Aside from that whole neurotic need to control the future. But I’m getting better at letting go and leaving my worries for the day they become relevant. Maybe that’s what’s making me go all zen. Or maybe it’s the Buddha statue someone left in my room.
I dunno. I’m sure it’s one of those…