I like to listen. It’s a sorta perversion of mine, eavesdropping. If you prick up your ears at the right time, occasionally you will hear poetry. Unsuspecting people are gold mines for the sort of comedy and pathos most television and movie characters lack. I have spent untold hours sitting in red vinyl booths at various coffee shops, pen and paper in front of me, jotting down every conversation within earshot. That’s sort of my job as a writer: listen to what you have to say, transcribe it and send it out into the world - I used to run an Overheard Movie Review blog, which was pretty fun.
Some nuggets sit in those notebooks for years. They wait their turn to be used in a script or on stage. Sometimes I start with a real conversation I overheard and begin a new project off of that. Real people help build real characters. I can craft a pretty decent joke out of thin air, but nothing quite touches the lyricism of a line culled from those everyday conversations. As George Carlin once said, “Language always give us away.”
Here are two very quick examples (which will lead to a much longer one): the other day I was walking into the West Hollywood Whole Foods (gross, I know) and in the checkout line was an elderly bag lady (that term still kosher?) standing by herself, a tote bag by her side. As I walked past this dirty old woman, I heard her mumble to herself, “I need food.” That was it, the only thing she said. To nobody in particular. Yet it was a simple and very direct truism. We all need food.
The second example was at an art gallery opening I stumbled upon while taking the evening’s air. Gallery openings are a great place to score some free cheese (and wine, but I don’t drink anymore. Instead I load up on brie). At the cheese table, next to the terrible abstract paintings that were unfortunately being celebrated that night, two older women (placed both of them in their 60s) were having a conversation. The one dressed like a panel of curtains found in most Arizona motels said, “I’ve been dating on-and-off a guy from college for almost 40 years. But, you know, it’s not going anywhere.” No shit. Sure, grammatically that sentence is hot garbage, but I am able to understand this woman’s entire life in 21 words. I have a pretty good sense of Mr. College BF, too.
That was a semi-long intro to this week’s posting: a transcript of a conversation between a family that sat next to me at my usual breakfast/coffee spot Republique. This family of three consisted of a Father and Mother, both in their late 40s, I’m guessing. Dressed in H&M-chic: he had on green joggers and a pair of brand new Retro Jordans, while she hung a gray wool ankle-length coat on her chair. The Daughter, 20s, wore baggy jeans and an old sweatshirt.
By the time I sat down, the Mother and Daughter were already in the middle of a heated argument over the Mother’s negativity. That’s it. That is what the entire argument was about. Sensing something good might come out of this talk, I opened my notebook and began to jot down everything they said. I listened in as these two women spoke in a manner not unlike how two therapists involved in a fender-bender might speak. Neither backing down, but neither raising their voice above the other. Not sure if the mother is a psychiatrist or not - with that coat, who knows - but I’d wage dollars to donuts that both women are in therapy multiple days of the week.
This is one of the many curses that plague the current liberal mindset: that everything can be solved with your NPR-addled brain. This addiction to academia and the need to intellectualize everything has turned a certain sect of people robotic. Everyday in Los Angeles I have to deal with roughly a dozen different Hal 9000s, each dying to start a conversation about whatever article they half-read from The New Yorker, The NY Times, WaPo, or some segment they watched on Maddow or Last Week Tonight (“What age should we tell our kids about the sins of Capitalism?”), hoping my response will be a polite bobbing of my head and a reassuring “totally.” I’d like to hit all of them on a gut level. Say what you will about nutty right-wingers (of whom you can say a lot) but at least they’re passionate.
I only mention their demeanor in the event that you want to act out the following scene at home with some others. Maybe everyone should take a shot of Fluoxetine beforehand…you know, to loosen up.
Anyway, I know I’m losing some of you here, so let’s dim the theater lights and start the show. It is my pleasure to present to you…Scene From A Restaurant.
FADE IN:
INT. REBUPLIQUE - DAY
Upscale French cafe. The kind of place that uses a diacritical mark above the first “E”, which I would’ve included, had I any idea how to do such a thing. Use your imagination.
A FAMILY OF THREE sit and try their best to enjoy a breakfast that includes a French baguette with warm butter and jelly, a Croque Madame for the gentleman and a Croque Monsieur for his wife. A bowl of mixed berries sits untouched in front of their daughter. A French Press of coffee steams between them. Like I said, this place is very French.
Music: “Listen To The Music” by The Doobie Brothers (French, yes, but we’re still in America)
DAUGHTER: (to mother) You’re always negative.
MOTHER: No, I’m not. And, frankly, I think you’re being unfair.
DAUGHTER: How? How am I being ‘unfair’?
MOTHER: I don’t believe I’ve expressed anything negatively. Name something where I responded with a negative expression.
DAUGHTER: Literally everything.
The Father continues to pick at his Croque Madame, which is not a great sandwich when cold.
MOTHER: Everything? How can I be negative about everything?
DAUGHTER: It feels like you’re negative about everything.
MOTHER: Is this about my thoughts on things or your reaction to my thoughts about things?
DAUGHTER: (slightly confused) Um, both?
MOTHER: So, I’m not supposed to express my opinion on anything now?
DAUGHTER: God, no, of course you can express your opinion…but—
MOTHER: But it has to be positive? Always?
DAUGHTER: I was trying to express my feelings about ____(unable to decipher) and you just walked away!
MOTHER: I was walking into the restaurant before the line grew.
DAUGHTER: You’re just not looking at it from my experience.
MOTHER: Nor you from my experience
DAUGHTER: We both have valid experiences that neither of us are valuing.
(I swear this is word-for-word what they said)
MOTHER: Except my experience can’t be negative? Even though I haven’t been negative at all this morning.
The Daughter retreats to her phone. A very long moment of awkwardness surrounds the table like a cloud of toxic gas. The Father continues to nibble at his breakfast.
MOTHER: (to Daughter) So, now you’re just gonna be on your phone?
The Daughter drops her phone onto her lap. Her face begins to turn red.
DAUGHTER: God!
FATHER: (to Mother) You have a right to your opinion. It’s valid. But, I think, you also have to acknowledge that you hurt her feelings.
MOTHER: (to both) I already said outside that I ‘agree to disagree’. She doesn’t understand-
DAUGHTER: I do understand.
MOTHER: Do you? I need space to feel ok expressing myself.
DAUGHTER: Everyday I try to express positive feelings.
MOTHER: Why do you think I’m not being positive?
DAUGHTER: Because you never express it!
MOTHER: You seem uninterested in moving on.
The Mother notices the untouched bowl of berries.
MOTHER: And now you’re not eating?
DAUGHTER (tears begin to trickle down her cheeks) I can’t eat when I’m upset! You know I have eating issues tied to my emotions!
The Daughter sits back and starts to sob. The Father returns to his meal. After a brief moment of staring at her daughter, the Mother forks a few berries and eats them.
MOTHER: They’re good.
The Father’s cell phone rings. He stands up.
FATHER: Nobody discuss anything till I return.
He exits the restaurant and takes the call.
Now a heavy silence sits between Mother and Daughter. Mother continues to eat her Daughter’s berries.
MOTHER: So I’m ruining everything now?
The Daughter lets out a pained sigh.
DAUGHTER: I never said you were ruining everything.
MOTHER: It felt to me that is what you were expressing.
DAUGHTER: I just want some positivity!
The Daughter’s legs begin to bounce manically.
MOTHER: I said the berries were good. Did you not hear that?
DAUGHTER: I heard you.
MOTHER: But choose not to acknowledge it?
DAUGHTER: Mom…
MOTHER: Look, we’ve been going at this for almost 2 hours now. I’m willing to move on, but you appear incapable of—
DAUGHTER: We haven’t been here 2 hours.
MOTHER: I’m counting the car ride.
The Father returns.
FATHER: What’d I miss?
The Daughter returns to her phone.
Music: “Bad is Bad” by Huey Lewis & The News
The Mother takes another forkful of berries.
MOTHER: The berries are good.
FADE OUT:
Alright, thanks for reading this week’s issue. We’ll be back with some restaurant review or maybe another podcast next week. I hope you’re enjoying these…and in the event that you are, please share with somebody who could use a laugh. Like the Mother in this week’s blog.
Neigh,
Post