"So, Gordon," I said as I held up my car keys, "Wanna go meet an old anarchist?" Gordon pursed his lips as if just haven sucked on a lemon, raised one eyebrow and looked straight into my eyes. He always does that when trying to determine what game's afoot at the moment and whether or not he wants to debauch himself with it.
"As Trotsky said to the Menshaviks on a cloudy day in Georgia," he answered, "Let's go!" Gordon does that a lot, too: begins and ends and peppers his speech with obscure quotes, mostly Russian. Gordon is quite the Russophile.
With all his quotes, references, attributions, subreferences and subtext, Gordon is like Dennis Miller on a rant-- all day long. He's a strange veteran who talks fast and gets mad about abstract subjects like labor unions, nuclear proliferation and ELF strategies, and he moves with ease between the profound and the profane.
We hopped in The Pig, my mostly purple Buick Electra, which still has the pillows, blankets, toiletries, changes of clothes and ALL the mail I ever received from when I was living in the car last year, and off we went on our little Sunday morning adventure.
Adventures: that's one of the kinships Gordon and I have. We are both explorers, willing to divert our entire lives on the chance that we might get to experience SOMETHING NEW.
A chance to walk The Great Wall of China? Gordon had to have that ticket punched. A chance to live under a bridge like a troll in L.A.? I had to have that ticket punched.
Gordon just couldn't get on with his life until he trudged the snow in Siberia. I had to stop and smell the roses living in a Russian Dog House (see blog # 3624578).
Gordon declared war on the FBI and makes trouble for local judges and sheriffs. I declared war on escort agencies and made trouble for local madams and pimps.
We are made the same pattern, Gordon and I. Gordon was just made out of more expensive cloth.
END PART TWO
Tags: when anarchists do lunch, game's afoot, Trotsky, Menshaviks, a cloudy day in Georgia, Russophile, Dennis Miller, labor unions, nuclear proliferation, ELF, Great Wall of China, Siberia, Russian dog house, jarvis, marquisdejolie
"As Trotsky said to the Menshaviks on a cloudy day in Georgia," he answered, "Let's go!" Gordon does that a lot, too: begins and ends and peppers his speech with obscure quotes, mostly Russian. Gordon is quite the Russophile.
With all his quotes, references, attributions, subreferences and subtext, Gordon is like Dennis Miller on a rant-- all day long. He's a strange veteran who talks fast and gets mad about abstract subjects like labor unions, nuclear proliferation and ELF strategies, and he moves with ease between the profound and the profane.
We hopped in The Pig, my mostly purple Buick Electra, which still has the pillows, blankets, toiletries, changes of clothes and ALL the mail I ever received from when I was living in the car last year, and off we went on our little Sunday morning adventure.
Adventures: that's one of the kinships Gordon and I have. We are both explorers, willing to divert our entire lives on the chance that we might get to experience SOMETHING NEW.
A chance to walk The Great Wall of China? Gordon had to have that ticket punched. A chance to live under a bridge like a troll in L.A.? I had to have that ticket punched.
Gordon just couldn't get on with his life until he trudged the snow in Siberia. I had to stop and smell the roses living in a Russian Dog House (see blog # 3624578).
Gordon declared war on the FBI and makes trouble for local judges and sheriffs. I declared war on escort agencies and made trouble for local madams and pimps.
We are made the same pattern, Gordon and I. Gordon was just made out of more expensive cloth.
END PART TWO
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