Hippie Squared: Party at Steve’s


a blogumn by Jeff Rogers
Steve Oglesby

Steve Oglesby

I was at a party at Steve’s. I went looking for the host.

I found him in his studio, on the telephone.

“Here,” he said, handing me the phone, “Say hello to my sister Elaine.” And he walked out.

Steve is one of eleven siblings. I’m never sure of the exact numbers per gender. Steve and Lani tried to fix me up with one of the sisters once. And I’d heard about a few of the others now and again but couldn’t really keep them all straight. They seemed to be a family seeded with geniuses and eccentrics.

So I was game.

“Hi Elaine,” I said, “How are you?”

“I have cancer.”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” I looked around helplessly for Steve.

“What are you?” she asked.

“I’m sorry?”

“I’m a cancer. What are you?”

I almost laughed. “Sagittarius,” I said.