Hep cats
Last night, Z-Ditty and I went to Bossa to go hear a friend spin in their upstairs room. I love that place - it's a firetrap, with the open flames from candles scattered about all the rooms and even along the stairs, but it's got (and you'll excuse the Californian coming out in me) such a great vibe. Low-slung couches and chairs are covered with brightly-colored fabrics, the walls are peppered with outsider art, and it's always got great music going on. The background for when I got dumped there last year came from a lively salsa band. There's nothing more disconcerting than to be sobbing in the corner and yet keep catching glimpses of happy couples whirling away in the corners of your eye.
Anyways.
I really do like it. And last night it was even cooler than normal. In addition to the DJ spinning reggae/electronica, they had a guy on a mike singing along with it, or as much as you can sing along with reggae. Full-disclosure: not a huge reggae fan, I peaked in 1987 with "Red Red Wine," and I know that true reggae lovers would rather rip their ears off than listen to UB40. But this guy was good. Plus they had someone painting in a corner, I guess as a way of doing performance art, and not one but two bongo drums.
One of the bongo-players was sitting right next to me. He'd chatted earlier, so I figured it was safe to lean over and ask him if he had received training on the bongos. Turns out you don't need it - just rhythm in your heart. That I don't have, but he let me play the bongos anyways. Z-Ditty was much better at it. At any rate, now I am officially a hippie. All I need is my hacky-sack and some clove cigs and I'll be all set.
Along those lines, in my new life as a hippie (and also partially because I was a wee bit tired this morning), I decided not to wash my hair today. And of course I got tapped to go do an interview. This happens every time I opt out of grooming myself properly. I should skip showers for a week - I'd probably end up on CNN. Let's hope they have some serious shine-control makeup at the studio.
Anyways.
I really do like it. And last night it was even cooler than normal. In addition to the DJ spinning reggae/electronica, they had a guy on a mike singing along with it, or as much as you can sing along with reggae. Full-disclosure: not a huge reggae fan, I peaked in 1987 with "Red Red Wine," and I know that true reggae lovers would rather rip their ears off than listen to UB40. But this guy was good. Plus they had someone painting in a corner, I guess as a way of doing performance art, and not one but two bongo drums.
One of the bongo-players was sitting right next to me. He'd chatted earlier, so I figured it was safe to lean over and ask him if he had received training on the bongos. Turns out you don't need it - just rhythm in your heart. That I don't have, but he let me play the bongos anyways. Z-Ditty was much better at it. At any rate, now I am officially a hippie. All I need is my hacky-sack and some clove cigs and I'll be all set.
Along those lines, in my new life as a hippie (and also partially because I was a wee bit tired this morning), I decided not to wash my hair today. And of course I got tapped to go do an interview. This happens every time I opt out of grooming myself properly. I should skip showers for a week - I'd probably end up on CNN. Let's hope they have some serious shine-control makeup at the studio.
posted by Her Ladyship @ 1:51 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home