How To Enter James Dean’s World

October 6, 2007 – 4:02 pm

I felt right at home when I walked into the diner on Main Street.

The cook was a little flustered when I asked for my eggs poached, but that’s normal.

The coffee was good, and the eggs were done just right– soft the way I want ‘em.

The toast wasn’t burnt, and the waitress was friendly.

I came in everyday, so she got to know me a little.

She liked it when I played Hank Williams on the jukebox– the overalled farmers at their table in the corner didn’t seem to mind, either.

They looked at me a little funny, I think, when my boots kept slipping on the linoleum, but I can’t be sure, I was too busy regaining my balance.

They probably thought I was doing it on purpose, like a slapstick clown, but I swear it was accidental.

It was just too perfect– I couldn’t have planned it if I tried.

I can always make a memorable entrance, somehow.

Things like that happen all the time, I guess it’s fate.

When we met at the church to get our candles for the march to Jimmy’s grave, some guy with a video camera wanted to interview me– it was getting dark and I didn’t know what to say.

So I winged it.

I put on my cowboy hat and talked about the diner.

I just played me.

He said it was perfect.

I would hope so– it’s my greatest role to date.

James Dean in Texas.