Life song? Once again Bittersweet Symphony - The Verve coupled with Life Can Be So Nice - Prince
I discovered that I don't need a spa to renew myself. All I needed were a few good friends, food, music and times. I'm feeling pretty damned good. Even that tired email from that even more tired broad didn't put a damper on my days. Her life must be pretty damn boring if she's gotta write me some crap every few weeks. Anyway, moving right along...
Most of Thursday was spent studying grammar and syntax, testing myself and tapping away at my desk. That evening, I met up with Kara for the XXXotica Review (starring Carmen Barika and muMs) at a small lounge/restaurant on 145th. Since I was operating on cp time, I was late and missed the show. We made some small talk before heading downtown to Sutra. Forever a good time. I got my cards read by a reader that stopped by. Biggest load of bullshit in the world, but great if you're bored. I danced until my little feetsies hurt. The gang was all there so between DJ Reborn, Kim, Jason, Kara, L'il Dave and Li I had a ball although I missed Selley terribly. Next week. Next week. I also received the most exquisite hug in the world from Dasean and I think he's the cat's meow. The only questionable moments in the night were: Getting hit on by my ex-man's friend (dude, stop playing) and some old drunk white guy (um, ick). Jason, Kara, Li and I left and headed over to Urge. I said it before and I'll say it again, if you ever want to know how fierce you are, hang out with gay men. Their compliments are so to the point and if you are unlucky enough to get read the riot act they will tear you to shreds. I have a lot of balls, but when it comes to gay men and sniping back and forth, I don't mess around. Urge was fun, complete with practically naked men crawling across the bar. It's nice to grab some booty that won't grab back. We acted a fool and shut the place down. After Li dropped us off at Jason's pad, located smack dab in the middle of everything, we stumbled upstairs and had a Buffy the Vampire Slayer throw back hour before crashing out.
Kara and I left early Friday morning, scandalously clad in party gear, while the rest of the world was heading off to the plantation. I taught Kara that the best way to deal with the looks that you get when you are so obviously just now getting in from the night before, is to paste a 'devil may care' look on your face and think about how much fun you had, the fact that you are going home to sleep and everyone else is facing a day of toil and labor. According to her call later that day, my suggestion worked. Friday I slept quite a bit, read some Piers Anthony and then hoofed it up the block to Negro's because he had just come in from grocery shopping and I got my em-effin cook on. I won't even discuss the menu because it won't do anything but make me hungry all over again. The itis set in all but immediately, so we konked out in front of the tv watching Family Guy. Or maybe I should say Family Guy watched us. We went for a quick skate, better known as Mala busted her ass all up and down the block before I headed in. I found myself typing 'I can't think of a damn thing to write' for about 4 pages before giving up. I spent the rest of the night dozing and reading Dante's Paradisio before getting a text from Johnnie G at some ungodly hour while he was on a hunt for french toast. We jawed until damn near day break before getting off our hot-to-the-touch phones.
I didn't go back to sleep because I was damned well inspired. I cranked out about 28 pages of some serious shit that was still pretty good when I re-read it. I know that's a sin but I can't help it. I don't want my story to go awry because I wasn't paying attention to the plot line. Y'mara is off that damn sand dune and hot on the thief’s heels. All is well in my head.
Later Saturday night, I plucked, powdered and primped before heading out to meet muMs for the Jaguar Wright performance at BB Kings. Lord have mercy - that woman can SANG. I'm talking hair on the back of your neck rises with her voice SANG. I mean these little chicks purring into mics nowadays can't hold a candle to her SANG. Her performance was opened by Stever Akerman (or something like that). Someone should put him out of his misery. I don't know what that lowing he was doing into the microphone was called but it surely would not be dubbed singing. Ugh. His lyrics were cheesy. His arrangements sounding like that horrible stuff you hear in hotel elevators. He had this Kenny G 'I'm so soulfoul' scrunched look on his face the whole time and last but certainly not least, he was sporting a kerchief tied sweatband-style around his disheveled hair. Sheesh. All I kept thinking was “would somebody please come get this lanky white boy off the stage? Thanks.” Jaguar fricken slaughtered it. I swear it’s almost like she tore into the heart of every woman for her lyrics. Still I wish she did not turn every song into a vehicle to show off her vocal range with neverending riffs and runs. It’s amazing but it gets kind of pat after about the 3rd 8 minute song. Just my opinion. But damn that woman can SANG. I will turn cartwheels for a Jaguar Wright show any night.
Moment that marred my night a smidge? I ran into a dude I don’t talk to anymore. Apparently my blog is getting pretty popular amongst ex-‘friends’ because as I sat there tight-lipped, he actually said “I guess you are going to write about how you igged me on your site.” Well he was right, but I won’t bother to mention his name. It’s just not worth it. These 7 sentences are 7 too many.
After she performed, I parted ways with muMs to meet up with Jason and Cedric to celebrate Ced’s birthday at Esquelita’s. I can’t stop saying it, but when the drag queens run up on you gushing “darling you are so fucking over!!!” it feels pretty damn good, considering they were all sporting waaaaaay better racks than me. I loved being the belle of the ball even though there was not one man in there for me to practice my feminine wiles on. I had the wrong equipment. But in the midst of all the cooing about me, I really didn’t mind that much. We caught the drag show, shook our hienies, laughed at the awful-bodied male go-go dancer, tipped the female dancer and got plumb snookered before heading home at some unreasonable hour.
I posted a quickie and fell out, couch left. Jason and I spent Sunday lazing around, being catty, laughing at tacky women and talking about life before I headed back to the Heights to see what was doing. I arrived and Negro was on my block cussing up a storm fit to blow the building down because he had been calling me for an hour to find out why I missed yoga. Hilarious. I have a thugged out Dominican dude doing yoga. Make fun of him and I’ll hafta cutcha. That’s my boy. We went for a bite to eat after I changed out of my little black she-don’t-never-come-home dress and then sat in the park in silence. No music, no nothing. Just some herbal refreshment, tasty beverages and two folk just enjoying the air. Inevitably, he got called away on business so I went upstairs and puttered around, sort of cleaning up, but not really. Danny Castro and Voodoo Ray were starting off their night at Tut’s so I threw on something simple and headed downtown. Tut’s is such a tasty place. Kitchen open all night, hookahs and regular smoking allowed, a full bar, good sound system, comfy cushions in the back to lounge on, a wide dance floor, a small stage and decent décor. I’m going to hold my birthday get-together there. Yep. I surely am. It was a thin night, as most openings usually are. I sat around with Allegra’s wonderful self and just talked about girl stuff until Danny and Ray closed shop. Not ready to call it a night, we walked a couple of blocks over to Libations, running into Dorian sitting in his ride on the way there. Dude is so funny and I swear he’s not even trying. He was heading elsewhere so we kept it moving. I forgot the name of the DJ in Libations but he won my heart when he spun classic KRSOne and The Symphony. Ray Duke showed up (dude, it’s becoming an epidemic) and we all just relaxed and had a few drinks until closing. We stopped at the falafel spot before heading home. A gyro is NOT the thing to eat at 4:30 am. I learned that the super hard way. For those that don’t know the man personally, Voodoo Ray is a fucking clown! He had us in the falafel joint ROLLING. Of course I laughed myself straight into a hiccup fit, while a totally unsympathetic Danny made fun of me. After she dropped the boys off (which you know included sitting in the car talking shit for an hour) Allegra and I grabbed a cup of coffee and girl talked for while longer before we parted ways.
I don’t know. It was a really simple few days. I feel so good though. It just reinforced my belief that it is the little things in life (shut up Johnnie, quit snickering), it really is. Even opening that stupid email this morning and my utterly appalling lack of squishy can’t put a damper on the “oh yeah this is the way I should feel” thing going on inside me.
So that’s all for now.
If I feel anything else (besides a little nostalgic) I’ll be back.
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