The Marquis’ Intimate Diary

MONDAY, 24 JANUARY, 2000, PHILADELPHIA
Continuing on with the my friends are my deities theme. This here’s a little homage to Patti in New Orleans.

Patti is one of the most beautiful creatures I have ever known. And she works it with effortless ease, and exacerbates her beauty with maddening humbleness and modesty.

One of the most beautiful things about Patti is her smile. She reserves her smile only for people, things and events that merit one. They are expensive smiles, but you get what you pay for.

Not to say she is an unpleasant grump, scowling all the live-long day — she is rarely anything but pleasant — but a wide grin is an event, and a laugh is cause for record. So I spend my time trying to make Patti laugh. Because there’s not enough beautiful stuff on this earth.

The last time I was in New Orleans, Patti, her friend Tracy and I were walking up Chartres, near K Paul when Patti suddenly shouted, “The pole! You’ve got to see the pole!”

There is a lightpole next to a payphone near the corner there. I leaned against the phone. She grabbed the pole and then my hand. 4 trillion volts of electricity flew through us. I find Patti’s company scintillating, and her touch electrifying, but this is not what I was expecting, so I broke the chain and spent a couple seconds trying to unfurl my arm which had wound up like a watch spring from the muscle retractions.

“Wasn’t that fun?” she asked, silver smile radiating.

“Fun?” I said, still working my elbow back and forth.

“Try it again. Just don’t let go. It only hurts for a second.”

Tracy wasn’t having any of it. I’m a total goon, so I tried it again, alone.

Because it was making Patti smile.

Pole. Deep breath. Phone. WINCE! Wait it out! Wait it out! Don’t let go! Oh shit christ this burns! Oh, hey, wait, this isn’t so bad. Kinda pleasant, right? I am transported back to youth when I used to stick forks in the sockets repeatedly just to make sure it still hurt. Lilting refrain goes through my jiggling mind: “Memmmmorieessss…”

As my hard drive started failing, I let go, and bounced up and down on the cobblestones, shaking my limbs out again. “Fun,” I agreed.

Patti favoured us with another smile. Then grabbed the pole and the phone again herself.

We stood there, watching her twitch and smile her beautiful, genuine smile. She stood that way for a good 20 seconds.

“Look,” she said, still connected, “my wrist is cramping up.” She seemed very amused by this. Her hand was curled at an obscene angle. I thought of Stephen Hawking’s hands.

“Look,” I mimicked, “my heart stopped!”

Patti broke the current. I had made her laugh. I won the living room set, the washer/dryer, and the trip to Tahiti. Her laughter flew on little silver wings across the street, bounced off the marble of the old courthouse building, came back unscathed, and fluttered around our heads a little while.

When all our limbs were back to normal, we continued on our way through the Quarter; all was right with the world.

Lucky Cheng’s