The Trickster Diaries/Chapter 70
Truth is, for now at least, online is where my relationship with Juliette needed to be. It was as if we were operatives dropped at opposite ends of an extraterrestrial city, and wouldn’t meet or evolve until safely reaching the center.
But HQ had given me a secret assignment: getting to my film script. So I said a polite and happy, emoji-free, “So long for now,” to my 30 Ello followers and included a special thanks to the research and development staff @(Juliette’s channel).
She commented almost immediately: “Did you know that current research asks the hypothetical: if GIF viewing is capable of temporary memory obliteration, is cognitive function, (during that same time interval), similarly short circuited? PS: Promise not to bother you too much while you’re writing, haha.”
Wait, I thought—is that what they’re doing? In a sense, yes. GIFs direct the attention to another place, forcing it…
Me: Hm. Excellent hypothetical. Whatever the results, pretty sure GIF viewing will one day replace modern psychotherapy. PS: Bother me.
Juliette: Are you sure? Feels weird, knowing you’re busy.
Me: You’re my muse.
Juliette: You’re mine. (Heart emoji, heart emoji, heart emoji).
Dropping off the Ello radar for a while was good timing. Juliette sent me a private email the next day—one of the most concise and brilliant paragraphs I’d ever read—that included the fact her mom was coming for a 2-3 week visit so she, too, would be slowing down her journey on the Ello train.
But there was much more contained in that paragraph. The email came with a photo attachment of the high end merchandise she imported, then retailed, plus a rapid fire description of prepping them for shipment high on angel food cake then a single, breathtaking sentence on why—precisely why—she loved the European Space Agency and oh, btw, heart emoji.
Also contained in that little paragraph was clear evidence—an intentionally left clue for my spy eyes only: I’d guessed right about her ethnicity.
So, we didn’t talk any less at all during Ello break. There wasn’t even a break. We still posted, still commented, productivity off by, um… 65% each, I’d guess, but emails up 35%?
One morning there was a still of her, eyes hidden by the cardboard sign she held, which read: Thinking of You!
God she had a gorgeous mouth. And no, I didn’t know who, if anyone, the message was for, but I commented anyway. I said: “Hayden from Boston?”
She leaped into keyboard action: “You just made me laugh so hard I nearly choked with surprise. ‘Course, I have had two glasses of champagne. Still…”
Uh oh. We we’re beginning to develop secret code.
Never a good sign when it comes to dames,
(Drops of rain on Fedora, lights smoke, turns to camera)
especially dames with secrets.