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contours provocations
journal - 2002-0630 - sun 2030 Arthur, Dash and Agatha; "Biblical Sense" and "Of Cabbages and Kings" Sunday evening, and I'm sitting here watching "Billy Elliot." I love this movie. There are so many wonderful moments in it. This afternoon, a friend and I went to see "Minority Report." His first viewing; my second. This time, I was able to pay closer attention to the details. And details there are. I caught the names of the pre-cogs this time. Arthur, Dash and Agatha. I'd read at IMDB that Agatha was probably a reference to Agatha Christie. When I heard the other names, I immediately thought of Arthur Conan Doyle and Dashiell Hammett. That may be a strech, but's it a plausible theory. Last night, a different friend and I had dinner at a new restaurant here. He suggested it. But I was opposed to it because I thought it was very expensive. But he said it was reasonable. I asked how he knew. He said the manager had told him so. "And how do you happen to know the manager?" I said. "Because we know each other in the biblical sense." he replied. "Oh, Oh! OH!" I responded. He called and made a reservation. And after about ten minutes off we went. The restaurant is in a set of buildings designed to mimic the French Quarter in New Orleans. The original intent was to have a mix of residential, shopping and dinning. But I've always had the impression that the residential aspect was never very successful. Last night, I noticed that the complex has been considerably expanded. Including the addition of a yet unopened building in a former courtyard. A building that has the look a municipal structure in the Crescent City. The area is a maze of walkways, tunnels, courtyards, twisting paths, tiny patios, small bridges and narrow alleys. And it does indeed have the look and feel of a French Quarter block. The restaurant offers a combination of Thai, Italian and Japanese food. We were cared for by a very elegant server who could have stepped out of a 30s movie. Attentive without being pushy. Perfect timing. I casually commented on how attractive I found him. My friend said, "Oh! That's the manager. Did I forget to mention that?" We both ordered Thai. And it was superb. Maybe just a tad spicy. But very good! After eating we wandered the paths in search of the expresso place. Which after a couple of dead ends and detours, we found. He ordered a cup of something semi-exotic. Then we sat in a light breeze on the patio and talked. "Of cabbages and kings." At long last, I think I've discovered the secret of the success of these conversations. We actually appear to listen to each other. Without contrivance. But at this point in the game, all secrets have been revealed. Including those that normally are to be divulged only in the posthumously published memoirs. I'm sure I love him, but I'm not in love with him. And I feel the converse is true. PAX!
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