Wednesday, June 15, 2005
(8:43 PM) | Adam Kotsko:
Further News on The Girl
I think it's really necessary to take advantage of the little scraps of "gossip" that come The Weblog's way. As many of you know, Andrew Ackerman and the mysterious The Girl have met, live and in person, in Washington, DC. They went to the zoo and, reportedly, to a grocery store as well. My Technorati profile uncovered this piece by Mr. Ackerman, who I guess has a blog of some sort:Lastly, there's been much talk in circles where talk occurs ... about my torrid love affair with The Girl, an irregular commenter on this site and a sometimes loyal one at House of Kotsko. Our relationship took a serious and scary turn today at the grocery store. We shared the single remaining shopping cart outside the store, which worked out pretty well at first because we each got half of the cart for our own items. But my ability to hemorrhage money and buy more than necessary contributed to a tense shopping-cart moment, when my pile slid into hers. I think it was my package of Lay's baked potato chips. Either way, the system collapsed as my chips invaded her personal space. There was a moment of awkward silence, a brief few seconds interupted by some Mexican street thugs who made cat calls and threatened The Girl's dignity. I rose to her defense, slaying them in the freezer section with a frozen lamb shank, like in that Hitchcock movie, only I just put the lamb shank back in the case. It was a heroic afternoon, after all. I defer to The Girl for the rest of the narrative.The Girl did not oblige him -- perhaps she will oblige me. (Someone remind me -- this last sentence is related to a potential Friday Confession.)
I defer to The Girl for the rest of the narrative.
UPDATE: Okay, so this woman I was dating -- maybe more than one woman, including those I wasn't dating -- said to me, "Adam. You don't listen to women artists." And I said, "[sputtering] but, but -- Bjork!" And she said, "No. Not good enough." I dug the hole a little deeper when she was playing Patti Smith in her car, and I said, "Ah: nothing like some 'women's music.'" (She's a good person, so it didn't cause a "fight" per se.) But now I am like a woman fan. I love Cat Power. That song about Jesse Jackson is brilliant. Fiona Apple is good, too, as is Aimee Mann, as is Regina Spektor. In fact, the only music I listen to anymore is by women, or by earnest, sensitive men (like Elliott Smith).
