talking, rumiating, on Freddy.

I met Freddy walking in the middle of the night in Williamsburg. He was smoking a cigar. He's always smoking a cigar. Always, he balances the never ending cigar on some little ledge outside to chill out while he goes inside; he snags it on his way out and puff-puff. It starts again. In and out of Katz's Deli where he bought us famous pastrami sandwiches. In and out of Whole Foods where we got sushi. In and out of Hampton Chutney where we got dosa. In and out of The Taj where we got Thali. In and out of WooHop late night chinese.

Freddy talks a lot. He says the same things over and over, a lot. In between cigar puff puffs. 

"Everyday party, everyday Christmas!

"Everyday party, everyday Christmas!"

And everything is "Cool. Cool. That's so cool!" My nude nail polish. My red lips. My hot eyes. My hot pants. My high boots. My hair down. My hair up. My attitude. The way I walk. I am a supermodel.

Freddy has stories where everyone always tells Freddy he is awesome in some way that always starts with, "Hey Freddy, man,..."

Freddy taught physics in central India. He was a professor. He did something in the stock market where he made a lot of money. He lost a lot of money and drives a taxi, every night of the week from 6pm to 7am.

He talks about karma, ying and yang, ups and downs. He was up up up for most of his life he says, so he knew this time would come where he's down down down. He confesses he was very depressed at one point. I think he still is. Why would everyday be a party and everyday be christmas otherwise? 

In one story, he picked up this cool chick, took her home and she invited him in and bada boom bada bing Mr. Worldwide is in the house! It means what you think it would mean. 

He talked about getting waffle street cart because everyone likes waffles and it's a good business. He talked about making a reality tv show called Fashion Cab, based on his cab and friends, like me and Robert. 

He calls me to ask how my day went and where I am so he can pick me up. He wants to show me all these cool places, which I know are cool. The Kenmare, the this, the that in Williamsburg. Everyone in Williamsburg is cool says Freddy. So cool. In Manhattan, there are more assholes because everyone thinks they're somebody. 

He knows probably everything there is to know about the astrological signs. And he has some incredible wisdom and remarkably clear, simple philosophies about people.

He doesn't have texting. But he started texting me two days ago: 

"Hi !!!!!!! Baby doll .... My barbie. How is ur day......Freddy"
"Sabrina!!!!!!! Sabrina!!!!!!! My cocorina !!! What's happening !!!!! How was ur day!!!!!!"

He talks to me like this. He talks to everyone like this. If you're into yoga, you're his guru, his yogi.

It worries me a little, the fact he started texting me. Sometimes he crosses the line I think and it makes it strange. He wants me but we both know that would never, ever ever happen. That's true with so many relationships we all have, or other ones I know I have; it must be true. I want to bake him cookies to thank him for all the free rides, but I don't want to be the one to give them to him. I want to go to all the places he talks about, but not with him, with other friends instead.

But it isn't wholly one sided. My discomfort isn't only in exchange for free rides, my company out of pity. Because sometimes his company has been wonderful. And he is so interesting, an interesting person to have in my life, if that makes sense.