January 24, 2014

January 24, 2014

When I was working at Book Soup I ran across this beautiful woman, who looked familiar to me, but I just couldn't place her face with a name or location or even time.   Someone in the store yelled out "Tosh!" and both of us turned our heads toward the voice at the same time.  The woman was Natassja Kinski, and we both looked at each other and laughed.   She told me her nick-name is "Tosh," and she asked my name.  I told her my name is Natassja.  She looked at me and we both laughed.

She was looking for a book of poems by Caresse Crosby, which sadly we didn't have on the shelf at the time. I often felt like an abandoned book on a shelf, because I knew my time was about to end here, and I wanted to ask her out for coffee if she had time.  But alas, she left the store before I could find courage to ask her.  Later that night I went to Amoeba to purchase the DVD's  "Paris, Texas" and "Cat People"  I found both copies under her name.  Amoeba gave her films their own section in the store.  On the bin card someone cut out her face and attached it to the card.  It made me sad because I feel that this will be the closest I will get to "Tosh."

When I got home, after a long journey on Line 2, I started to watch "Paris, Texas," and I too found myself in sympathy with the leading character who became lost for some mysterious reason, maybe due for his love for "Tosh."   It was there, that I realized that one's idea of a person can be even more satisfying than knowing that person.  I became quite content to have these two DVD's and one is playing in front of me right now.  Towards the end of the film, when she makes an appearance, I turned down the sound and put on a Klaus Nomi record called "The Cold Song."  The beautiful melody and performance of that song matched up perfectly with the image of Natassja.