Finishing up a day at work, my co-worker asks me if I'll be attending "La Palabra Movil," an event promoting reading and writing projects in the projects. Bilingual poetry would be part of the event's festivities and it struck my curiosity enough to want to attend (aside from the fact that I wanted to support my friend's interest and passion.) Of course, the girlfriend and I were running late. Arriving approximately 35 minutes after the event got underway, we caught the end of the last bilingual poet.
Great.
The pieces I was specifically interested in and we missed it. Conveying this interest to her, she simply stated "Sorry" at which point my friend approached and directed us to the food table. No sooner did I return with food and drink to where my girlfriend stood, an unkempt and ripe smelling man approached me to ask if I had a lighter, to which I kindly replied, "Nope. Sure don't." Though he turned his back to me, I could hear his mumbled dejection and personal assessment of me.
"Man. And you look like a stoner."
Aside from the remainder of the evening's events, it was this "poetic evaluation" that stuck in my mind.
Great.
The pieces I was specifically interested in and we missed it. Conveying this interest to her, she simply stated "Sorry" at which point my friend approached and directed us to the food table. No sooner did I return with food and drink to where my girlfriend stood, an unkempt and ripe smelling man approached me to ask if I had a lighter, to which I kindly replied, "Nope. Sure don't." Though he turned his back to me, I could hear his mumbled dejection and personal assessment of me.
"Man. And you look like a stoner."
Aside from the remainder of the evening's events, it was this "poetic evaluation" that stuck in my mind.