Conversations With David Sedaris

25 07 2008

 

“David Sedaris,” I’d begin, “as I live and breathe.”

 

            David would smile patiently and gesture with his tiny man hands for me to sit. “Mister Paula Pazderka,” he’d say, “as I live and breathe.”  We’d both chuckle at that and although Open Eye Café in Carrboro doesn’t have a wait staff, a waiter would come by and plop a large ice coffee down in front of me with 2 Splendas, a significant amount of half and half and a bit of sugar.  The waiter would curtsy, his black fingernails shining.

 

           “You may not know this David, but I want to be you,” I’d pause dramatically just to be cute. “Not that I want to be a middle aged gay man, no not that, at all.”  Catching myself, I’d attempt to correct it.  “Not that I wouldn’t, I mean I’m sure it is fabulous. Absolutely fabulous! I love gay people. I used to hope one of my brothers were gay to make my family more interesting.”

 

 

*   *   *

 

 

“David Sedaris,” I’d begin, “Isn’t always kind of awkward to meet someone you admire?” I’d chuckle and he’d nod.   “You want to be clever and funny, but also yourself.”  He’d nod.  “Yeah, it could get real awkward… real awkward… really really awkward.  Yep.  And weird.  Have you ever heard the joke about two muffins in the oven?  And one muffin turns to the other muffin and says, ‘Boy it is hot in here.”  And the other muffin says, ‘Holy Shit, a talking muffin!’  Heh! That joke still makes me laugh.  Yeah awkward… real awkward… really really awkward.

 

*    *     *

 

“David Sedaris,” I’d begin, “did you know I’m doing the reverse of you?  I now live in Raleigh, after moving from Chicago and going to the ‘Tute,” I’d pause.  “That’s what I call the Art Institute of Chicago.”  I’d stop because that is the extent of my reversing.  David, a clever man, would assume there was more.

 

 

“And you were born?” He’d ask.

 

 

“Omaha.” 

 

He’d look confused and search how this could possibly be in France.  I would sit by quietly not able to help.

 

 

“Beach?”

 

 

“No, Nebraska.”

 

*   *   *

 

 

“David Sedaris,” I’d begin, “you look lovely in that long sleeved blue button down – although it is 98 degrees in here.”

 

 

*   *   *

 

“David Sedaris,” I’d begin. “I read your latest book When You Are Engulfed In Flames and no one since Spinal Tap has made death so funny and explosive.  He’d smile.  “Thank you for being funny,” I’d say and walk away.  When I reached the door I’d say, “For what it is worth you don’t dress like a hobo.”

 

 

– Mister Paula Pazderka

 

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