Sitting in the lobby of the automotive place and with a book I picked out from my mom's house library. "A Million Little Pieces" by James Frey. The cover caught my attention years back, but the fact that it was in Oprah's Book Club kept me away. That is until the controversy about his "autobiography" came out. I wouldn't waste MY money on it, but now that I could borrow it, I'll take a peek.
I can't help but read this as fiction. Each time I refocus on the words and his story, my mind drifts back to, "this is fiction." Do any of you do that when you read books or poetry? Can I blame A.D.D.? I don't even HAVE A.D.D., but I like using it as an excuse whenever my mind wanders or when I'm multi-tasking.
Each time a new customer walks in, my ears perk up onto the conversations. I try to tune them out and get back to reading, but I like this real life channel surfing into their lives.
A golf pro, or maybe just a golf fan, talks the receptionist into changing the channel from music to some celebrity golf game. I don't see faces, I don't care to look up. All I see is their legs and hear their voices. His wife uses a voice louder than most indoors. I can't help but hear their conversation about watching & recording this show. It's OBVIOUS they want everyone to know they know about golf. And the first name this man spouts off... Tiger Woods. *shudders* (Dude, if you want to impress people about golf, please don't throw around that philanderer of a douche, Tiger.)
Not even 5 minutes later, the golf couple walk out of the shop without even THANKING the receptionist for changing the channel for he and his wife. Asshole. (Thanks for the consideration of others, buddy. I really don't need to be exposed to the world of golf. It will not enrich my life.)
Back to James Frey...
Legs and voices. Oh hey! I recognize that shower smell. These people walking in must be Hispanic. (Read, read, read. Focus on the words.) Man starts to reply to the attendant in English with strong Spanish accent. I knew it! That was the smell of Irish Spring soap. The commercial jingle for Irish Spring is ingrained in the memory of every Hispanic that has ever watched Don Francisco.
Legs and voices.
