Audiobook Biography - Parker Posey
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Young Adult (18-35)Accents
North American (Canadian-General) North American (General) North American (US New York, New Jersey, Bronx, Brooklyn)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
I escaped New York in January of 2017 to live in Vancouver for eight months. There were fewer buildings there and fewer people on the sidewalks and more sky all around. I'm aware of how mundane and obvious that sounds, but even walking the sidewalks in Manhattan is magical. Looking down as I walk, I'm both grounded and hovering the mica and the cement glittering like stars with a hardened black chewing gum like looking plants and a piece of trash and asteroid. Vancouver sidewalks were wide and more open with less micah and they're clean because all the trash finds its way into the garbage cans. I felt more free there while walking and less like a ping dot navigating its way when passing people as you do in a video game without constant practice of reaction and instincts from one destination to the next. I love the grid of the city and the energy it creates, but I had just moved and wanted to stop. Vancouver felt like a town discovering itself as a city and landing in the 1950s, it likes its trends and styles, loads of people had tattoos and the guys had beards and they groomed. There's a cafe culture that I'd never experienced and I got a kick out of coffee. Somali talk in a barber shop, cafe used furniture store called space lab. There was a newly opened sandwich shop called say, hey, only a few blocks away where I met the owner whose mother brought fresh flowers for the counter, A food truck could become a restaurant like this place. Taco Fino one day I was waiting in line at Taco fino. A restaurant in the cool part of town called gas town, which was 10 minutes from where I was living in chinatown. There were enough tattoos at Taco Fino to last a few days of storytelling. I wonder if an animated show starring the tattoos of people could be a hit. I was thinking of getting some teardrops coming out of my nostrils. At one point I get to say laughing and crying. You know, it's the same release When anyone would comment, there were a few modern primitive stretched ear lobes in the place. One woman was sporting shiny silver gauges that made holes in her ears the size of silver dollars large enough to contain the jalapeno. If she ever had a baby, should get whiplash. two Bearded Fellows came in and one of them announced all of us waiting, there would be more room if we moved the line over here. He gestured for everyone to move against the wall and stood there as an example. They were dressed like timber cutters or construction workers from the 50s. If smoking pot was cool in Canada, they may have been stoners, but since it's legal and the sense of humor is laid back, it's difficult to know what did it matter anyway, But they're suggesting how people should line up and everyone complying made me think of the 50s of soda pop and greasers and rules. Adhered to. I walked past him like a secretary taking a survey and said to the one who spoke up, you must be the line guy. What is it like to put people in line? I wag my finger at them as I moved to the ladies room. His face flashed in recognition as I did a quick thumbs up and shut the door. This mode comes from my father. I describe him as a comedian without a venue and he loves that restaurant or any room full of people naturally become stages for him. And if the room happened to be empty, he could flirt with a door knob or entertain the wall. No problem. Later that night I ran into the bearded guys walking on the sidewalk in front of me and said, excuse me as I passed them stumbling in my clogs, not recognizing them from earlier I was on my way to have a dirty burger at a place that's not advertised because it's that cool. And they only have a select number of burgers per night because the beef, which they cooked medium rare american style is pure cooking burgers. Medium rare in Canada is almost against the law. The health department will shut you down. So the place was kind of taboo. You walked upstairs to a hole in the wall made trendy with a beautiful bar and gruff e handsome bartenders who asked what you wanted to drink as if they'd been out caroling all day, steering the grass, fed cattle from which you'd be fed prohibition hung in the air, although nothing was illegal. There were just a few people there because it's only ever crowded on the weekends. I said hey Andre to the bartender who had seen me a few times before, I was always overly friendly here because the place had attitude. We have only one burger left. He uh and he tilted his head toward a single man sitting alone at the bar and I completed Andres sentence. He took the last one or there's one more for me. Is that Vancouver? So there's one more and I can have it. Andrei nodded as if we bartered. I always felt out of place when I went there that I loved it. And Andre plus the burger was perfect with its special sauce of mayo and onion, but mainly like every burger, it was the fries that did it. There was one time they didn't have a burger for me and I made a big show of my disappointment. I'd like to speak to Vancouver about this if he's around