Trash talk

"I'm really dirty. You have no idea how dirty I am." A pantalooned man with feather earrings was trying to convince me he was dirty...his long hair seemed clean enough, and he had a clear complexion, so I figured he meant it in the other sense. "You don't believe me, do you. I mean it. I'm a filthy boy. That's just the way I am. Take it or leave it -- I'm not changing for anybody."

I asked him what he did.

"I'm a music producer. I've worked with everybody. They're all my friends. Gwen, Amy. Gwen lives over there, you know."

He pointed at a nearby house. I asked, "Who's Gwen?"

"Stefani!"

"Oh, well. I'm not really into music."

A group of us walked to Gilgamesh, which Feathers assured us would be amazing (he said he knew the shareholders). Along the way, he kept saying he was "really dirty. You have no idea how dirty I am." Then, he took one last swig from his plastic cup and tossed it over the wall.

I stopped short and said, "You just threw your plastic cup into the canal."

"Yeah, so? It was empty."

"I've never actually known a person who littered."

"Oh, give me a break. It was empty! Who cares?"

"I care. I bike along the canal, and it's full of trash."

"I can't believe this! I'm getting lectured!"

"Never mind." His face was turning red, so I decided to appease him. "Just don't tell me you don't pick up after your dog, either."

"Hell, no, I don't pick up after my dog! Why should I?" He went into a detailed explanation of why he couldn't pick up after his dog.

Instead of Gilgamesh, we ended up going to The Hawley Arms, "where Amy hangs out." There was a queue, so I said I was heading back home, but he talked to the doorman, who let us in. Feathers seemed to know a tall blonde at the bar. He took hold of her drink, which she then grabbed back. He came away angry. "That's my ex-girlfriend. She got all pissy because I took a sip of her drink. Just because I didn't have any coke to give her! Bitch. Don't you think that's unfair? I mean, why not give me some of her drink. It's what friends do. I'm in the right here, don't you agree?"

"Sure. "

"You would never do that, I bet. Not let me have a sip of your drink just because I didn't have any coke to give you."

"I don't do coke."

"Me, neither. I haven't done any of that stuff for a couple months. That's what I told her. I'm clean now. And, hell, you can't expect me to just carry it around all the time. She won't even let me have a sip of her drink! What a bitch. You agree, right?" He looked at me, pausing. I nodded. "But, we get along great, don't get the wrong idea. I get along with all my ex-girlfriends."

Feathers pointed at the women waiting for the toilet and said they were all in line for cocaine. He pointed out some other people and said he'd been to an orgy with them a month or so ago.

I said, "That's only the second time I've heard about a real-life orgy." The last time was at a gas station in Redondo Beach. Some guy sitting on the curb, eating a $1.50 tuna sandwich and driving a $100,00 Mercedes (he pointed out both to me, repeatedly), invited me to an orgy, and I laughed at him. As I walked away, he shouted, "When's the last time you had sex?!"

Feathers then reiterated that he was dirty, and said everyone had secrets. "I bet you have secrets, too. Look at you, acting all innocent, like you've never been to an orgy. Yeah, right!"

I didn't say anything, which he probably took as confirmation.

But I was thinking, if I do have secrets, it's only because no one wants to hear them. And anyway, they wouldn't be the sort of secrets people like Feathers understood.

He attempted to walk me home. But, I told him he really should pick up after his dog.