While I was at Pete’s Candy Store enjoying a concert by Nevada City, CA band Golden Shoulders, with special guest performer Joanna Newsom, I spotted director Michel Gondry. It wasn’t difficult to do, for he emitted an unmatched aura of focus and determination. I’d seen this focus before, though never in creative visionaries. I’m used to it in drunk dudes with popped collars who have invested $100 in boozing up a special lady and are trying to seal the deal. In his own lasciviously romantic (French) way, Gondry demonstrated this focus in his pursuit of Joanna. Presumably, the director, was there to discuss making for her a music video. To me he looked like a dude obsessively trying to get laid. I was a dude obsessively trying to get someone to draw on my sling. I was unable to satisfy his desire, but he satisfied mine.
You see, a few weeks ago I broke my wrist. Now, whilst I heal, I have to lug around a big hunkin’ above the elbow plaster splint everywhere I go. It’s a cumbersome accessory, but the worst part is explaining to circumstances of the accident to ever new person I meet.
Here’s an example:
-Oh my god, what happened?
-I broke my wrist.
-Motorcycle? Why are you riding one of those? They’re dangerous.
After that they ask me to go into the specifics of the accident, “if it’s not too traumatic to tell the story.” Not too traumatic, just too repetitive.
That night, before going out, I realized if I had business cards that said, “Motorcycle Crash” with a simple diagram, I would save myself many minutes of idle talk that night at the bar. Of course I had no time for cards, but a drawing on my sling would do the trick. Unfortunately I had broken my drawing hand, so I would have to conscript an artist. I brought a sharpie with me. When I noticed Gondry in the mix, famed lover of drawing and proponent of clever visual storytelling, I knew there was nobody more qualified to create the pictograph of my accident.
With the determination he applied to slinging Joanna and other ladies, I began efforts to get Michel to draw on my sling. Either my goal was more modest or my charm more alluring, but at the end of the night I had my boring story told in an exciting picture representation. Michel, I believe, left the bar without a companion.