Going Long

Homer

Running Time: 1 hr, 30 min

Say you're sitting in your apartment or house or whatever and you're watching James Burke's Connections on PBS or you're chuckling and frowning over the latest piece by David Foster Wallace in Harper's. And Burke is about to make ancient Lithuanian food-preparation rituals link up with the discovery of penicillin, or DFW is in the middle of cracking wise and sesquipedalian about the habits of Boston sanitation workers, and the phone rings. And it's this guy you know who's about a decade or so younger than you. He's from a really small town, and just recently he's been to his first year of college and then done the Exchange Student thing and traipsed around Europe a bit, and now he's stateside again and the experience has changed him, he feels, given him all manner of insights concerning The Meaning of Life. And he begins to regale you with these insights.

Well, he's cute, this guy. Not just in the physical way -- although that, too, sure -- but also like kids who tend to express themselves in ways that reflect several years of interest in theatre or theatre classes. And he's always been kind of endearing that way, and what the hell, you set down your Harper's or you mute the Connections and you listen to him go on about his First Encounter With Falling in Love -- with a German -- a foreigner! And then he supplies a few observations on what it means to leave home for the first time and then to return to that home. And he continues like that, in his manneredly endearing way, without ever quite riveting the subjects down beyond greeting-card nebulous, and for good measure he reads you an entire chapter out of one of Garrison Keillor's books, and he sings you a couple of songs while accompanying himself on guitar, and by now you're regretting missing the rest of Connections because you have this sort of penicillin fetish whose itch would've been well-scratched or you'd rather be reading DFW's take on Beantown garbage removal.

And after about an hour, as you're trying to figure out a way to politely let the kid know that you wish he'd just go play his songs at some music venue -- because he's got some good stuff, after all, both originals and covers, and can kick bluesy ass with his faithful guitar, and you'd even pay good money to listen to him wail and strum every now and then -- he draws his monologue to a conclusion of sorts and hangs up.

O -- kay. Alrighty then.

(Feb 4, Fri, 2:15pm)