Fly Guy

A long day awaits me. An 11-hour shift at Cow, followed by a quick walk to the Dani Bell and the Tarantist show at Winstons. I clocked in at 10am and minutes later an obviously crazy person walked in. The day never had a chance to get its bearings. Those first few minutes of peace before a long shift are like the essential deep inhale before a marathon, my first metaphorical breath would be of car exhaust, dust-off and paint thinner. How do you know someone is crazy from first glance? Well, he had a partially shaved head that looked more like a topographical globe of a new earth, where the bald parts indicated toxic water and the hair indicated varying elevations of land, and there were plenty of each haphazardly splayed around his world. He had caution tape wrapped around his right hand, perhaps a reminder to masterbate with the left and left only for some reason. He had an American flag ear ring, I guess that doesn’t necessarily indicate crazy, perhaps the Olympics brought out his pride, but perhaps Trump. No shirt. A tattoo of a single solemn tear. Also, last week he came in and yelled at a Vampire Weekend poster. I guess that’s not entirely crazy either. I have no problem with the guy, especially today since he didn’t come in yelling at our posters, but here’s where conundrum drifts in like a fart cloud. When he left he grabbed a handful of Birdy Bardot flyers. He said “I like to use these things as ice breakers, sometimes I’ll give them to someone and they’ll give me a quarter. One time it was 50 cents.” Hmmmmmm. Perhaps this explains why we had to reorder a bunch more Birdy flyers. Now I’m thinking if a batshit crazy person gave me a flyer, I’d start making assumptions about the band he was promoting. In this scenario, I’d expect Birdy Bardot to be a Korn coverband who does socal reggae versions of Korn’s early works. This cannot possibly be good for us. As opposed to intervening like a good record label owner and saying “here, take these Blackout Party flyers instead” I asked if I could take a photo of him holding a Birdy flyer, so I could share it with the band, to which he responded “PUT ME ON THE INTERNET, I’M FUCKING FAMOUS!!!” So here we are. In a moment of absolute serendipity, I snapped a photo and a fly landed on his head and sat there forever as if they were partners in a buddy comedy called My Guy / My Fly.