Okay, here's what happened. As you all know (since I hit you up for suggestions) I felt the need this weekend to generate some randomness into my overly rutted existence. Thank you all for your tips. I'm glad to see that my need to get weird could generate so much weirdness in return from the people I care about. {Sheeh, folks, I knew y'all were out there, but some of your responses bordered on the hellishly freakish. THANKS!}

What I decided on was not nearly as off the wall as some of your suggestions, but it was a good starter move, and many of your tips have been filed away for a later date should I feel this need again.

When I was working at Syntellect, my boss screwed up my name between the time of my last interview and the time I hired in. She handed me my name plate when I showed up for my first day. It read "CJ Murphy". I was also in the phone system and on the phone list as CJ.

Odd thing, CJ became kind of a phantom presence. On some phones I would call, I showed up as CL on the display, as CJ on others. Phone lists would get updated, and from time to time I would show up as CJ again. A couple of times we were both on the list (with the same extension). It became a running joke that if a deadline got missed or something else went wrong that "CJ did it."

This weekend, I decided to *become* CJ. I developed a full character profile for him and sent him out into the world. My operational parameter was that no true phrase would come out of my mouth about my background.

His curriculum vitae is:

Age: 30

Born in Belize to American expatriates (I wanted him to have an accent, but I didn't want it to be American or North Atlantic. Beside, who has ever heard a Belizian accent to call me on it? Making him from Belize also allowed the ability to be foreign but not get called on the carpet about a foreign language I don't speak well enough to bullshit in.)

His parents split up when he was 8. Dad stayed in Belize as a commercial fisherman. Mom went back to Detroit and became a banker. He split his time between the two countries and was educated by private tutors.

He holds an MS degree in political geography from Columbia.

He is a professional wanderer and poet.

He worked as a mercenary with Executive Outcomes for two years (1988-1990) in Angola and Zaire.

He's currently on a quest for Truth and has a mystical/mythical true love out there that he has never met.

He's a great believer in faith even though he knows there are no gods.

To start events off on the right foot, he went to the stylist for a new "do". (Carolyn, I don't know if I told you or not, but I've had short hair for about a year and half now) He told her he didn't know what he wanted, only that he didn't want anything shaved and he didn't want any brush-forward. Aside from that, the stylist was to surprise him and let him know when she was done. Several minutes later he opened his eyes and found (da DAH DAH da!) a trim. Okay, whatever. He gave the girl a chance to express her creativity and she balked at the opportunity. Selah.

CJ then went to the (alleged) Phoenix Art Museum, notebook in hand. After touring the (PATHETIC!) exhibits, he sat on one of the benches outside the 19th Century American exhibit with a folded over sign that read: "Poetry. $5/5 minutes." He made $80 in three and a half hours. The plan was to see what he could milk out of people in terms of personal information. In order to write them a personalized poem, he had to know something personal about them, right?

NOTE: People who go to the art museum on a Saturday afternoon have an amazing amount of baggage. CJ heard stories so damn weird, so impossibly maladjusted that they had to be true. After getting the data, he sent the people away, told them to come back in 5 minutes and pick up their poem. He didn't miss a deadline, and most people were impressed at his insight!?!?!?

After the museum, he headed up to the 92nd St. Cafe. I had been witness to a truly random event there the only time I'd ever been; so I recognized that the environment was not incondusive to such occurrences. The plan was to get dinner, drink wine, write, stare off into space and see if being so conspicuously occupied would generate interaction on the premise of entropic migration. It worked.

Aside: There was an odd occurrence. The bartender, who was working about 10 feet away, was a warmly beautiful woman, such that you felt better merely for having seen her. The waitress, however, was not beautiful at first glance. After looking at her two or three times, though, you really notice how gorgeous she is. It was a much better effect because, while you notice the bartender's beauty and move on, you can't help but to keep looking at the waitress, wondering how you failed to notice her loveliness at first.

CJ was being prolifically visited by the Muse on Saturday. He cranked out almost an entire notebook full of observational poetry. Odd, since CL has never had a knack for observational poetry. My work is almost entirely situational.

At any rate, the waitress stopped by at one point and asked if he was a "listmaker" too. He didn't follow, so she said, "You know, making lists to get your head together, sort out your shit, stuff like that."

"No," he said, "I'm a poet."

"What kind of poetry?"

"Whatever kind the situation requires."

"GOOD answer."

She stopped by at many points during the evening, always when his pen was up and away from the paper. It was odd, since the place was fairly full and she was the only waitress, that she was spending so much time at CJ's table. It was not the least bit unpleasant, however.

There was a guy sitting at the table next to him with a buddy. Every word out of his mouth pissed CJ off until he recognized that the man was an absolute fool (not to mention was drinking Jagger with Bud chasers). Among the vileness to spew from this evil mouth were:

Handguns should be banned as the Constitution makes no specific provision for them;

England should invade Ireland and take back what rightfully belongs to it;

Israel should take over Lebanon and Syria

The Egyptians were the first monotheistic culture, given the worship of Ra (I'm sure Anubis and Isis were thrilled to know this)

Nefertiti was an alien who gave mankind the wheel to help in their advancement

Einstein was correct in his unified field theory

Faster than light travel is possible using solar sails

The New World Order will come into being 5/5/2000 (mark your calendars)

Men are incapable of understanding or experiencing unconditional love

Love is the most powerful force in the universe and cannot be destroyed

I was tempted to start throwing out comments from the peanut gallery, but I realized that CJ wouldn't waste his time with guy, harkening back to Heinlein's advice about teaching pigs to sing.

CJ wrote the waitress a poem after she brought him a candle to write by, along with a bottle of Chateau Ste. Michelle merlot. He did not give it to her, however, believing that she might take it as an attempt to move on her. In one of their longer conversations he learned her name was "Tessa" and became quite captivated, being moved to write a second piece. He had already become entranced by her eyes. They are extremely similar to his, but with a greenish cast where his are blue. Still, they were a strong mixture of recessive genetics in action, lots of flecks and strangely blended colors.

At 9 she was going off the floor but would still be at work for another two hours rolling silverware, doing cleanup, etc. A karaoke party was starting (one strong similarity between CJ and me: karaoke makes us both shudder). He went to Tessa after paying his bill and thanked her for both the company and the service.

{insert dialogue}

"It was a pleasure to meet you, CJ"

"On the contrary, the pleasure was mine, and I claim it wholly."

{mirroring my gestures} "Then I must sneak into your private places and steal some small part for myself, because I have space to store some of that pleasure, as well as a right to it."

CJ smiled and shut up; he knows when he's bested.

She then said, "Run into me on Friday."

"Shall I take your number and call you?"

She smiled then, as though trying to give him an idea without words. "No, just run into me."

So, that was the random generation of the weekend. It wasn't that much of a departure, other than the fact that CJ is a lot more extroverted than I've tended to be lately. He also says things before I would even think them, since he does not have my capacity for self-censorship and review before speaking.

It also got my creative spark rekindled a bit, and, perhaps, let me see that faith and hope are not necessarily things to be avoided for fear of failure, but rather embraced for possibility of success.

That's all folks. Feel free to start dishing comments, as I fully expect them. Thanks again for your help, all of you. It's good to know that when the need for weirdness erupts, you freaks are out there to backstop me.

M_