You gotta love geeks.
Remember that show Freaks & Geeks.
Right about then is when I decided I loved them.
Maybe that's how I wound up with a sci-fi nerd.
BLESS HIS HEART.
|She was looking into a lighted makeup mirror atop a cosmetics-strewn table, and a face of girlish healthiness was looking back.|
"You learn how to listen to the tiniest little detail in the sound," said Linda Ronstadt, "to listen to relationships and patterns and how patterns relate to each other within the whole scheme of sounds. I can listen to someone with my eyes closed and practically tell you if they're telling you the truth or not, or, if they're going through a sentence, what they're nervous about, because that word will jump in a certain way. The sound of it will change, if there's anger, or embarrassment, or. . ."
The last thing I wanted to do at that moment was talk; my words would jump like fleas. I already was perspiring - worst place, top of my head. I was wretched. I was dying. I was ecstatic. I met her only a few minutes earlier, on a stairwell in San Antonio's Municipal Auditorium, just right of the stage, where dancers and mariachis were rehearsing and stagehands were fussing over equipment. She had been talking to a Las Vegas animal trainer, Ed Krieg, whose white palomas (pigeons) were to be used in her show. She spoke softly to the birds, wanting to pet them, but not to frighten them. She was sitting, leaning across the bare concrete in a blue-jean jacket. Her shoulder-length hair was full and black. When she turned to greet me, she smiled. The whiteness of her teeth and the clearness of her fabled brown eyes took away a little of my breath. She said, "I'm Linda." And then I was sitting in her plain, white dressing room, watching her put on makeup for an afternoon photo session. She was in San Antonio, a Hispanic majority city of one million people, to open a 15-city, national tour based on her new, gold-selling Spanish-language album, Canciones de mi Padre (Elektra, 1987). I was close enough to see her exactly as she was - unadorned: the person, not the persona.