It's not everyday i can concoct these stories so plush with detail, that i can't help but tell it. the deatails are all in my head and i can't really recollect them in verbose. Some of the embellishments are a personal touch! It lasted the entire 'gurkha shift' of the radio. So let's call it a story, let's call this a situation. Let's call this anything you want to call it really.
It happened over a few mind numbing realities, and a couple of stiff points pointed out. It happened when i was numb and zoned out in my car. i was being driven home and then the radio switched on to smooth jazz. It was 10 'o clock. The search was heavily on for a car wash. That's when it happened. a technicoloured dream unfolded across the windscreen, and i slumped into it thankful and very aware that i was letting go.
I mean times were when long drags could do the trick, i was getting this for free. So i wasn't going to be the one to complain. heheh. Ride on.
It's a noisy jazz bar, instruments are being tuned and there's a heavy kind of smoke in the air. It's a jazz bar. My favourite people walk in (you know who you are!). I'm a vision - half latin diva / half indian princess. i'e got long hair and i've got a scarf half done in a turban, long dress, feet bare, and sitting on one of the most comfortable stools. you only get them at jazz bars. the old school kind.
The moment i see them, i break into song, it's a slow and practiced way of setting the tempo for the evening. No matter how many times i take the stage, i just can't seem to get that thrill out of my head, when i know a song will hit home with the people i know will get it.
So i belt out the sweet notes of "I want a sunday loving". It's a road-trip of a different kind. After my session with the keys, i join my favourite people, share a couple of drinks, and sit in the corner with a cordless microphone, accompanying talented others on the seconds and the mixture of alto and sop.
And as Louie plays his famed frenzy on the keys signaling end of act one, i blow kisses, plant one on the bald bouncer, and we're out the door to the many musicial dens of old. Until after each person's satiated being smile in unison that we're done for the night. Or is it day?
I'm in the middle of a carwash now, and i sit up in a stupor of not knowing when i got there. It's not automated, it's too darn late to find one now. And as the automated gun spashes jets of water on the windscreen, i can't help but smile.
Tis a trip i liked. I thank ye sista for being awake with me over the month, for sleepless nights spent in conversation, and a stolen swig of wine. I thank ye for the insight, i thank you for the shared happiness in finding that the trips can be much better. Wot say?
I conclude, verily that from lack of sleep, and a concerted effort to foray into the unknown is an enlightening journey. and boy did i dig it!