Bistro Bijou

[Guest]

........

 

[champagne1982]

Oh! And happy I am, t'hear it. You've been making great poems there inside Jami-san. Is it kinda like prodding the muse?

 

[UnderYourSpell]

There's something here in dire need of prodding and it's not my muse .... oops pardon me must be my hormones am in a 'anyone that gets close enough will get their clothes ripped off' frame of mind

 

[unpredictablebijou]

I want six, big, juicy Digby scallops.

pizza.

Let's see... how about a big bowl of spinach dip, and instead of bread or crackers, I want a lot of fried pork skins with it... and a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup DQ Blizzard too - large!

I'll have some proper English chips not what you call chips and not what you call French fries either but big chunky deep fried chips smothered in vinegar and salt and for me loads of mayo which I adore or failing that loads of mashed potato with butter followed by chocolate cheese cake smothered in chocolate sauce served with ameretto icecream

Y'know, I would just about kill for a rindwurst and an order of pomme frites from the Schnell Imbasse down the street from where we lived in Erlensee, Germany.

*sounds of crashing and mad cooking of every sort from the kitchen.*

forbidden food really touches an emotional chord, doesn't it? Allergies are one thing, but just avoiding a food forever because it's bad for me goes against my policy of trying to live as if I were going to be hit by a truck tomorrow.

*alright, who just whispered 'from your mouth to god's ear?' c'mon, who was it?*

live a little. Eat a fried egg or a hot fudge sundae or a good steak once in a while. Even moderation should be used in moderation.

You have a crush on Brak? Ahahahahahaha. Love it. Love Space Ghost Coast to Coast. My kids and I used to be absolutely addicted to that show. I personally love Zorak. An utterly evil space alien praying mantis! Wotta guy!

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/d/de/Space_Ghost_Zorak.jpg

Look into those eyes!

I have a HUGE crush on Brak. I'm the reason he got his own show. I mean, of course, Zorak is hawt and I'd hit that, but Brak and I have so much in common. He even has an underwear collection like I do, and I have most of his songs memorized. I'm inclined to break into "Friendship Ointment" or "I'm a Cucumber" at a moment's notice.

The shop is a madhouse but I'll be around.

bj

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Angeline I know you are unwell again will you pleeeeease rest more and get you strength back xxx

Signs of spring snowdrops,daffodils, primroses and miniature irises in my garden. Icecream vans tinkling out 'Popeye the sailorman'. Lambs in the fields roughing it which proves they are tougher than me .. my days of roughing it long gone and I am now definitely a hot house English rose. Magpies building in my tallest tree and collared doves cavorting on the bird table (bow to your lady and chortle while she ignores completely carries on eating perhaps she won't notice when I jump onboard)

 

[Angeline]

Angeline I know you are unwell again will you pleeeeease rest more and get you strength back xxx

Signs of spring snowdrops,daffodils, primroses and miniature irises in my garden. Icecream vans tinkling out 'Popeye the sailorman'. Lambs in the fields roughing it which proves they are tougher than me .. my days of roughing it long gone and I am now definitely a hot house English rose. Magpies building in my tallest tree and collared doves cavorting on the bird table (bow to your lady and chortle while she ignores completely carries on eating perhaps she won't notice when I jump onboard)

Thank you, dear lady. I am trying. At the hospital yesterday, my nurse told me he had five patients and three of us have this same dreadful virus that turned into pneumonia. The emergency room has been lousy with us, apparently.

I ate a banana and a piece of toast today and I actually feel slightly better. eagleyez is making me soup and then I'm going back to bed. Life in the fast lane.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

It's somewhat duller without you here, Angel, so get better soon.

I am so glad, though, to see some of the kewl people finally returning to the board, and some nice new voices as well. Perhaps it can stay peaceful and constructive in here for a while. And well, if it doesn't, you're all welcome to hide in the bistro basement fallout shelter. I have enough canned marzipan to last us all about 50 years, even if we decide to use it to make obscene sculptures of one another's naughty bits.

So here's a question, and potential poetry or prose topic, with a bit of a backstory.

Last week we needed to do a little spell to get some friends some much-needed new wheels, so we made a little rear-view mirror charm and then took it to the bar and got everyone to talk about their Perfect Driving Memory. What amazed me was how easily everyone was coming up with their particular story - oh yeah, I remember that moment, I was in Key West, and Bob Seger was playing...

You have one; everyone has one. You're behind the wheel of a car you love, going to a wonderful place. You feel free as a bird and a particular song is playing on the radio.

So what's that moment for you? Where were you going, what were you driving and what was the story?

Bonus: write a poem or prose-poem about it.
Double Secret Extra Bonus: find the song or songs and put them up in the Radio Free Jezebel thread. We need some new radio shows in there.

welcome. Here is food.

And here is dessert.

bj

 

[RhymeSmith]

And here is dessert.

bj

Gah! ... help!... I need insulin!

 

[unpredictablebijou]

Gah! ... help!... I need insulin!

Oh, no worries, sugar.

She's not at all sweet in that particular movie. That's from Red Headed Woman, and I think it's fair to say she's quite.... tart.

*alright, fess up. who just whispered 'it takes one to know one'? It came from back there in the corner somewhere... Angeline? Zat you? I thought I told you to go to bed before I sent Homburg up there to tie you to it...*

bj

 

[Tzara]

You have one; everyone has one. You're behind the wheel of a car you love, going to a wonderful place. You feel free as a bird and a particular song is playing on the radio.

So what's that moment for you? Where were you going, what were you driving and what was the story?

Let's put these questions in the proper hedonic order, shall we?

• What car were you driving? My parents' white 1967 Pontiac Tempest. Cool car, sort of, 'cuz it looked a lot like a GTO (which actually was a cool car), though the thing was pretty gutless. Probably why Mum and Dad let me drive it. Black vinyl upholstery and bench seats, which feature in the story later (q.v.).
• Where were you going? Girlfriend's house to announce that Hey! I got my license and we can go neck without worrying about your Dad walking in!
• What song was playing? What I remember is Jumpin' Jack Flash, though the chronology seems wrong, as that came out in 1968 and I was 16 in 1969. Oh, well. Memory is a personal delusion.
• What was the story? I'd just got my driver's license, which makes it sometime in Spring 1969. It was a glorious sunny day (again, perhaps misremembered, given where I grew up), I had all the windows open and, at that time, enough hair to be disheveled by the breeze blowing through the car. I was testing the distortion level of the standard 6X4" speaker in the dashboard when a decent AM signal was way overamped into it. On my way to Gretchen's house to squire her about, scooted up to my hip (see? bench seats) and perhaps engage in some healthy, uh, mutual admiration.

My, my, my how times does fly. Now I might rather prefer Dove sono over the Bose sound system in an Infiniti M while the wyf and me head to the Ghiberti exhibit at the art mooseum. Or a Mariners game.

Whatever.

 

[RhymeSmith]

Oh, no worries, sugar.

She's not at all sweet in that particular movie. That's from Red Headed Woman, and I think it's fair to say she's quite.... tart.

*alright, fess up. who just whispered 'it takes one to know one'? It came from back there in the corner somewhere... Angeline? Zat you? I thought I told you to go to bed before I sent Homburg up there to tie you to it...*

bj

Oh good... I much prefer savory...

 

[unpredictablebijou]

Let's put these questions in the proper hedonic order, shall we?

• What car were you driving? My parents' white 1967 Pontiac Tempest. Cool car, sort of, 'cuz it looked a lot like a GTO (which actually was a cool car), though the thing was pretty gutless. Probably why Mum and Dad let me drive it. Black vinyl upholstery and bench seats, which feature in the story later (q.v.).
• Where were you going? Girlfriend's house to announce that Hey! I got my license and we can go neck without worrying about your Dad walking in!
• What song was playing? What I remember is Jumpin' Jack Flash, though the chronology seems wrong, as that came out in 1968 and I was 16 in 1969. Oh, well. Memory is a personal delusion.
• What was the story? I'd just got my driver's license, which makes it sometime in Spring 1969. It was a glorious sunny day (again, perhaps misremembered, given where I grew up), I had all the windows open and, at that time, enough hair to be disheveled by the breeze blowing through the car. I was testing the distortion level of the standard 6X4" speaker in the dashboard when a decent AM signal was way overamped into it. On my way to Gretchen's house to squire her about, scooted up to my hip (see? bench seats) and perhaps engage in some healthy, uh, mutual admiration.

My, my, my how times does fly. Now I might rather prefer Dove sono over the Bose sound system in an Infiniti M while the wyf and me head to the Ghiberti exhibit at the art mooseum. Or a Mariners game.

Whatever.

Nice, T.

I wonder what the middle ground personality would be, somewhere between Jumpin' Jack Flash and Dove sono? Somewhere in that territory lies the Truth of you, I suspect.

Forbidden food and Perfect Driving Moments are not an exhausted topic around here yet, I suspect. Let's hear some more.

Come talk about yourself. Tell me stories. That's why I'm here.

bj

 

[RhymeSmith]

You have one; everyone has one. You're behind the wheel of a car you love, going to a wonderful place. You feel free as a bird and a particular song is playing on the radio.

So what's that moment for you? Where were you going, what were you driving and what was the story?

While I believe I am probably as much a hedonist as Tzara, I'm too lazy to try for that much structure.

The car was a Rambler American. I believe it was a 1965 model, and I didn't have the radio on - it was AM-only anyway, and only a few stations could reach me. The night was cool, and the car was almost driving itself. I was on my way home from spending the weekend with my girlfriend, who was a college senior at the time. She had just agreed to become my wife. Life was good.

 

[Angeline]

It's somewhat duller without you here, Angel, so get better soon.

I am so glad, though, to see some of the kewl people finally returning to the board, and some nice new voices as well. Perhaps it can stay peaceful and constructive in here for a while. And well, if it doesn't, you're all welcome to hide in the bistro basement fallout shelter. I have enough canned marzipan to last us all about 50 years, even if we decide to use it to make obscene sculptures of one another's naughty bits.

So here's a question, and potential poetry or prose topic, with a bit of a backstory.

Last week we needed to do a little spell to get some friends some much-needed new wheels, so we made a little rear-view mirror charm and then took it to the bar and got everyone to talk about their Perfect Driving Memory. What amazed me was how easily everyone was coming up with their particular story - oh yeah, I remember that moment, I was in Key West, and Bob Seger was playing...

You have one; everyone has one. You're behind the wheel of a car you love, going to a wonderful place. You feel free as a bird and a particular song is playing on the radio.

So what's that moment for you? Where were you going, what were you driving and what was the story?

Bonus: write a poem or prose-poem about it.
Double Secret Extra Bonus: find the song or songs and put them up in the Radio Free Jezebel thread. We need some new radio shows in there.

welcome. Here is food.

And here is dessert.

bj

My first car was a 1967 Oldsmobile 442 that my father gave me. It was maroon with that black crinkly top cars some used to have (what are they called? they all peeled), and it was very, very fast. You barely had to touch the gas and you were doing around 80 mph. It was the summer of my junior year in high school and I spent many happy weekdays on the beach at Seaside Heights, New Jersey, and Friday nights trying to sneak (often successfully) into a club called The Bird's Nest in New Hope, PA, where my friends' (I was the baby of an older crowd) band was playing. I don't remember any specific song, but let's use this one because I was in a memorably bad car accident years before in my sister's car when it was playing, and it's a quintessestially New Jersey song to me.

I only had the Olds about a month. One of my dad's friends saw me drive by with a carful of my bffs (picture lots of long straight hair, jeans cutoffs, bikini tops and flip flops--my wasted youth) speeding (really, really speeding) down one of the back roads to the Jersey shore with a cigarette hanging out of my mouth.

My dad took the car away and grounded me.

That's my moment. Oh, and it didn't help. I only got more wild. Angeline was a wild young poet chick.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

...... Angeline was a wild young poet chick.

"Was". Yeah. I'm buying that.
You're all settled down and normal and vanilla and shit now, sure.

You were the sort of grrrl that I'd have admired from a distance, I bet.

My business partner and I have discussed it and she'd have beat me up in high school. Good thing I didn't know her then.

And Smitty, your car moment made me all verklempt. A marriage proposal and stuff. Way sweet.

*mine are all just about getting laid.*

bj

 

[Homburg]

My first car was a 1967 Oldsmobile 442 that my father gave me. It was maroon with that black crinkly top cars some used to have (what are they called? they all peeled), and it was very, very fast. You barely had to touch the gas and you were doing around 80 mph.

I am so very, very, very jealous.

I the 442. A 1970 W-30 is pretty much the definition of Oldmobile muscle. Put it beside a 67 GTO and you have all that was good and pure and true about GM muscle cars.

I am trying to decide on my perfect driving moment. I'm a car guy, born and bred, been driving since I was 11 years old (yeah, 11), owned and rode (and wrecked) my first motorcycle at 5, and owned more cars than any four people that I know. I work on cars, my career revolves around them, and I drive for a living.

In short, the automobile and I are inextricably intertwined, and there is no moment in my life in which I was cognizant and thinking, and did not consider myself a fan of things motorised.

I am overwhelmed by choice.

I will probably wind up relating vignettes from various points. *shrug*

I once had an 81 Pontiac Phoenix. Awful car. The worst part was the starter. It was a non-standard starter and a bad one, and every time I tried to replace it, I was given a different starter, and none fit, so I would inevitably just go back, get my core, and rebuild the godawful thing again.

I got to the point where I carried a piece of angle iron to arc the contacts with, because I got tired of mucking with the solenoid. Turn the key to the on position, pop the hood, climb out in the pouring rain, reach past the hungry metal fan, and arc live current across wet steel, to hear that feeble four cylinder grudgingly cough to life.

I remember walking out to the car with some friends. Can't recall where we were going, but the car wouldn't start, period. Without a pause in conversation, I grabbed my purpose-built tool roll, and proceeded to non-chalantly drop the starter with speed akin to a NASCAR pit crew. My friends stood there, mouths agape as I removed the started, rewrapped the chicken wire holding the solenoid armature together, and dressed the brushes. All while carrying on with the conversation like nothing was happening. I got to the point where I could pull it, do a light rebuild, and install it in under 15 minutes without rushing.

Wow, that car sucked, but my GM Starter Kung Fu is strong thanks to it.

 

[champagne1982]

It's my Mini Cooper... I've made a poem about it... somewhere.

The thrill was (please forgive kilometers... suffice it to say 100 kph = 60mph) popping into 4th, heading west, at 1 pm on a fall afternoon. Flying on to fifth gear, at 4500 rpm; the scenery flying past faster than the upturned single boots on the farmer's fenceposts, on Hwy 55 just west of Riverhurst and realizing I was at 150 kph with lots of room on the tac.

If I blinked, I was blind for longer than it took to roll the stopping distance of my car. It was fun for the few seconds I felt it pop up over that speed but I shifted into 6th gear and let it slow down to 130 kph (or 75 mph). Now, it's not as fast as a racecar but for such a tiny machine, it's got long legs and fantastic handling.

Found the poem:

Mini's Mini

I've got my heart set
on a little silver-grey
bullet that will speed
me into tomorrow.

The Italian Job's
got nothin' on
this little Cooper.

Hush, and let me dream
of sinking into soft heated
leather bucket seats
at full cruise in overdrive.

A straight Alberta road
drags me to anywhere
but down. An adventure
on four wheels
a hundred and sixty-plus
horses
and a steering wheel.

They better not have sold
it to someone else.
​

 

[Angeline]

I am so very, very, very jealous.

I the 442. A 1970 W-30 is pretty much the definition of Oldmobile muscle. Put it beside a 67 GTO and you have all that was good and pure and true about GM muscle cars.

I am trying to decide on my perfect driving moment. I'm a car guy, born and bred, been driving since I was 11 years old (yeah, 11), owned and rode (and wrecked) my first motorcycle at 5, and owned more cars than any four people that I know. I work on cars, my career revolves around them, and I drive for a living.

In short, the automobile and I are inextricably intertwined, and there is no moment in my life in which I was cognizant and thinking, and did not consider myself a fan of things motorised.

I am overwhelmed by choice.

I will probably wind up relating vignettes from various points. *shrug*

I once had an 81 Pontiac Phoenix. Awful car. The worst part was the starter. It was a non-standard starter and a bad one, and every time I tried to replace it, I was given a different starter, and none fit, so I would inevitably just go back, get my core, and rebuild the godawful thing again.

I got to the point where I carried a piece of angle iron to arc the contacts with, because I got tired of mucking with the solenoid. Turn the key to the on position, pop the hood, climb out in the pouring rain, reach past the hungry metal fan, and arc live current across wet steel, to hear that feeble four cylinder grudgingly cough to life.

I remember walking out to the car with some friends. Can't recall where we were going, but the car wouldn't start, period. Without a pause in conversation, I grabbed my purpose-built tool roll, and proceeded to non-chalantly drop the starter with speed akin to a NASCAR pit crew. My friends stood there, mouths agape as I removed the started, rewrapped the chicken wire holding the solenoid armature together, and dressed the brushes. All while carrying on with the conversation like nothing was happening. I got to the point where I could pull it, do a light rebuild, and install it in under 15 minutes without rushing.

Wow, that car sucked, but my GM Starter Kung Fu is strong thanks to it.

Over the years when I've told that story, male friends have invariably drooled over the 442. I had no idea at the time what a muscle car it was.

My father worked for GM (he also had a coin and stamp store: my family was a bizarro mix of working-class greaser and nerd), and I was the recipient of all his midlife crisis cars. I also had (for about three months) his Porsche Targa (which broke down approximately every 20 minutes), until he took that away from me, too.

Wish we'd known each other then. You could have uh started my cars. Beep beep, beep beep yeah.

 

[Homburg]

Over the years when I've told that story, male friends have invariably drooled over the 442. I had no idea at the time what a muscle car it was.

My father worked for GM (he also had a coin and stamp store: my family was a bizarro mix of working-class greaser and nerd), and I was the recipient of all his midlife crisis cars. I also had (for about three months) his Porsche Targa (which broke down approximately every 20 minutes), until he took that away from me, too.

Wish we'd known each other then. You could have uh started my cars. Beep beep, beep beep yeah.

Working-class greaser and nerd is pretty much how I would describe my dad, and I inherited it.

And, yeah, would happily have liked to have known you. I would've started anything you liked.

 

[tungtied2u]

******
Sorry...not ready yet to submit...

 

[The_Fool]

Here is an old one I wrote. It was part of a round-robin between me and this la femme fatale that used to post here...


Driving home last night,
windows down,
blues in the background.
I felt a hand brush my cheek.
I heard a soft "mon cher"
and felt the lightest brush
of a kiss.
The smell of junipers
faintly distant
caressed my senses.
I felt the easing of tension
in my back
in my neck
as if two hands
worked my shoulders
two lips
caressed my cheek
two breasts pressed
against my back
as two arms
wrapped tight
around my chest.
Leaning back with a smile,
I watched the taillights fade
into the distance.
I heard the lonesome blues fade
into my memories.

 

[The_Fool]

Oh yeah, I will work on a fresh one.

So many memories revolve around cars and driving. Good and bad. And so many times when I shouldn't have been driving and did. Hot cars, not-so-hot cars. Now I guess I look for wheels that are like me. Built for comfort and not for speed, moderately utilitarian, never flashy.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Thought I would mention England has just had an earthquake!

 

[LeBroz]

Thought I would mention England has just had an earthquake!

It was so good that the earth moved for you?

.
.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Mmmmmmmm you know it did hunny ........