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It’s early morning again and I’m sitting here with a pretty much blank slate in my head. Trying to write something on a daily basis that is either entertaining, relevant or of some interest to anyone that may chance on it has become a kind of compulsive ‘discipline’ and I’m not entirely sure that this is a ‘good’ thing – for me that is. For one thing, it is time-consuming and one wonders if this time could be better spent. The one positive about it is that it allows Java the space to ‘let it all hang out’ as it were and this certainly frees an element in the mindspace that niggles to escape the confines of the inner domain. And once it does, there is a certain satisfaction that is achieved. So is that (satisfaction) worth the effort and the time spent? I guess I’m not quite sure, but time will surely tell – as is usually the case!
Anyway – getting back to the ‘here and now’ – early morning in the hills. For the ears we have ‘Maestro’ on WorldSpace emitting an unfamiliar orchestral arrangement so I’m not sure of the composer, birdsong in the background, a variety of frog calls, Sunil’s ekel broom sweeping the garden, a squirrel’s panic call, crickets and/or cicadas as well. And for the eyes – so many shades of green, not quite glistening yet, as the sun is yet to pierce the cloud cover to refract off the dew that covers everything. And for the body – the 15C temperature calls for at least a sweater to counter the chill. The others aren’t awake yet so there’s no interruption, but soon enough the day’s activities will require energies and efforts that will negate the awareness that this time of day is so conducive to. And so it goes.
It’s time to walk the dogs and see what else the early morning has to offer outdoors. I haven’t yet spotted the Indian Pitta (Pitta brachyuran) or the Banded Crake (Rallina eurizonoides nigrolineata) since the migrants returned, so maybe I’ll get lucky today.
‘Sex-slaves from Sri Lanka’ was part of the catch-phrase leading to this site that G Force e-mailed me the link to. The blurb went on to describe the variety on view and hardly any category was omitted – boys, girls, men or women, young or old, sophisticated or ‘earthy’, was the description. Photographs added to the incentive to make contact. To access or not to access? That was the question.
Lissenup maaann – dis shure to be some flaky buuullsheeet, an even if it aint yo don wanna be messin with dis sort of porno crappola.
I am taken aback. Since when did Java get anything even resembling a puritanical streak in his ‘anything goes’ makeup? He is usually the first to dive into anything that will ‘turn him on’ and cope with the effects as best he can, so this bit of advice was completely out of character.
Yo see what happen to Pete Townsend of da ‘Who’, maaan? Dat cat get busted jus for checkin out som paedophile site. Dose London piggies be all over dat poor dude, rippin his pad apart in dere search for incriminatin sheet. Take his hard-drive an everyting. Don know how it be turning out for ol Pete, but if dis sheet be possible, yo don wanna be messin wit it.
I had read of this case and wondered how it is possible for law-enforcement elements to arrest individuals for simply accessing something that is freely available to the public and is in the public domain. How far does one have to go before being liable to prosecution? And what are the limits? And does anything happen to the creators of the sites that could be liable for the causes of these incidents? Are there guidelines for visitors to cyberspace that inform us of areas that are illegal to operate in? Does anybody out there know????
It’s early morning in the hills and everything around is wet after the irregular overnight drizzles. The sun hasn’t made an appearance yet, so the mist hasn’t lifted. It is a chilly 16 C, a Jungle fowl (Gallus lafayettii) calls from the lower garden and Buzzy, Rock and Bruiser are impatient to go for their morning walk. Johann Sebastian’s Air on a G String is playing on WorldSpace, so I close up the laptop and let the dogs have their way.
I’m back in Paradise and the dogs’ jubilation is slightly muted to see that they won’t have my undivided attention, as I am accompanied by the Dancer and members of the family.
The early morning start out of Colombo made matters a lot easier getting out and the recent rains’ effects were apparent all along the way. The mental midgets that are responsible for the road expansion from Beluhiloya to Haputale should be made to be accountable for the horrendous planning and execution of this disaster, as the massive slides caused by their myopic operations will cost millions to the taxpayers and have already cost the owners of the properties above the road huge losses as well. Anyone with even a basic knowledge of the mechanics of hydrology will understand that in order to prevent erosion and loss of soil, proper drainage systems must be established. Having huge drains at the bottom of the sides of steep inclines caused by machines gouging out massive slices of hills will be worthless if the edges of the upper surfaces are not prepared for the drainage of the surface groundwater. That is as basic as it gets. However, nothing of the sort has been done. Who is responsible? And who will be held accountable? You got it. No one! And this is but one of the many maladies that we suffer in this country. What a shambles!
On the farm too, the effects of the rain have the herbs and veggies looking beat up and rather sad. All the erosion control devices are working well, the silt pits have functioned admirably and the ponds are full from the runoff from the gutters. The sunny afternoon is a great relief to both fauna and flora after the recent torrential rains. The Pond Herons (Ardeola grayii) are having a wonderful time gorging on the creatures that have crept out of the damp underbrush on the edges of the ponds and shrill whistle of a Grackle (Gracula religiosa) pierces the atmosphere.
The ladies are busy unpacking whilst little Mira, thoroughly excited to be back on the farm, is pestering to visit the animals. We take a walk to the stream at the end of the land and look at the fields, now planted with vegetables after the past paddy harvest. It’s such a ‘pastoral’ vibe that permeates this little village lending serenity to the psyche – a far cry from the fragmenting stress of the city. Java hasn’t made an appearance today and although I miss his chatter it’s somewhat relaxing not to have him around. He’s not much into family gatherings, so it’s understandable.
India meets Australia in a bit, and as I head off to watch I get that unmistakable sensation that I am not quite as alone as I thought I was.
The reception given by the Belgian Charge de Affaires at the Twin Towers was as superb as it usually is – particularly as there was no evidence of any politicos around as is generally the case at these embassy do’s. The other outstanding feature was the food! A superb array of hors d’oevrs, as well as authentic Belgian fare for dinner was laid out for the guests. The invitees were equally eclectic and Pierre and Saskia were the perfect hosts. However, Nahorp, his lovely Gowers, the Dancer and I had to leave earlier than we otherwise would have, as we had to make it over to the Deeb.
It was party time at the Deeb, with a sterling representation of the Burgher community in full force for St Labreu’s birthday. A ‘seventies’ theme had all the bell-bottoms, love-beads and other assorted accoutrements associated with that era, unearthed and even long-haired wigs were sported by the some of the aging hippies. And the straight folk tried their best to cope. The music also identified with the era – only the band sucked! The rain was a spoiler of sorts, as the outdoor terrace was not conducive to sitting outside, but that was a minor impediment as the force was buzzing with good vibes prevailing and a great time was had by all.
Dat be a reel good time you be havin yoself las night, ma maaan. I be watching you, dancing like a dervish wit yo brew in hand wit Zaney an wit Gowers. An who be dat chick dat grab you an jump around like she be tryin to get it on? I be checkin out ol Nahorp’s spresshun at dat move – clearer dan a tousan words maaan! An did yo check out Bastin wit his date Aina? Good for dat super-cool brodder – he be too good to be left to hisself – a reel waste. Dat girl Windimere don know what she be letting go of – if she reely be letting go, dat is! An she better hope dat her move don land her on her pretty lil ol butt – “don know whatchu got til it’s gone”, as Joanie Mitchell sing.
I keep listening to Java as I don’t remember much of the little asides that were happening and he is bound to have a few juicy tit-bits that flew by me as the night went on.
Jeronimo be lookin groovy in dat wig and dose shades maan, but I feel for our fren, as he could’n get into his music wit dat sorry-ass band tryin to back him. St Labreu also do a blues number on lead geetar an his vocals ain’t all dat bad for a dude dat not be doin dis as a regular gig. Krid an Ninna, Estev, da tall an willowy Tappy, Matti an her ol fren Minni Mala, who be wit her Junan, Drew an Monisse, crazy honky Radn, Jaru, Libby, Dalstein – all be partying heavy wit Cinimod capturin illusions for later. An his lady Zaney – she be animated las nite maan, she be in da groove – lovin dose ol 70’s tunes and beltin out dose lyrics, an ah see you be joinin her too. An later, ol Cini be sittin dere fallin asleep – he be sooo relaxed!
Java stops for a breather and lights up. I’m still a bit woozy from the night before and get some music on to help with the meltdown. I pick up one of my old discs – MJQ collaborating with Laurindo Almeida, and One Note Samba, Concierto de Araanjuez and Bach’s Fuge in A Minor are among the numbers in it. The sound is unbelievably mellow and even Java is silent as the strains Almeida’s guitar leads the progression on the samba.
It was a good night!
In my quest to find out the deeper reasons for blogging and what it is that attracts readers, I checked the top blogs on World Press and found that the first three are banal and so much bullshit – to me at any rate. First place is occupied by some Belgian –Mishka Zena, who informs readers of the Gallaudet University protests happening in Belgium – wowee-zowee! Next is Scobleizer – Tech Geek Blogger, who writes more interestingly than Mishka and whose content is obviously for techies, so it is understandable that he has masses of visits from all the geeks out there. Number three on the list is People of the Eye – another blog devoted to the protests at Gallaudet University – no, I’m not kidding you!!! And number four, Anousheh Ansari Space Blog is about Ms. Ansari’s trip into space, which is pretty far out and makes for interesting reading for most, I guess. In comparison, it seems to me that Kottu has a far more eclectic and interesting variety on offer, with a few (who shall remain un-named for now) excelling in their content and creativity. It goes without saying that there are also those bloggers in Kottu who I categorise in the ‘mundane’ section, but that’s just me and I’m sure that there are many out there that hold Java and yours truly in pretty low esteem as well – different strokes for different folks, maaan – as Java would put it! So where does that leave me in my investigation?
Sheeet maaann! Watchu be on dis trip for? Dis ting you be lookin for maan, it be as elusive as da Holy Grail, an you know why?
I’m not sure whether to get into this discussion with Java right now, as there’s no telling where it would end, so I try to put him off. I turn on Johann Pachabel’s Canon in D – this is one of Java’s favourites and usually gets him into a pensive, reflective state of mind, which is great for me!
Saaay know what maaan? Dis piece be one of da mos popular classical numbers ever! It be used more dan Mozart or Bach or Ludwig Von B. Know how many movies have dis in dere soun-traks? Sheeet, a whole slew maaan. An you know somting else, I have a sneaky suspishun dat George Martin use som of dis in his arrangement for dat Lennon song “In my Life’ – it come durin da break between verses – da da-da-da da daa da daa da, da da-da-da da daa da daa da….. .
Java hums the section and from previous encounters with this trip I see where he’s coming from. Anyway, I’ve managed to get him off the grilling that he started with on why I am looking for the deeper reasons that make folk expose their innermost thoughts to all and sundry out there in cyberspace. At least to those who may happen upon their respective blogs. He’s deep into the piece now, his eyes are closed and his doob is burning itself out in the ashtray. I’m back at the laptop getting this done and all too soon the piece is over.
Lissen maaan, yo know what I find on da web some days back? Dis same Canon in D being done by dis Taiwanese rock guitarist. Some far out mahfuhing sheet maaan an dat cat be swingin. Yo can check it out on http://haltingpoint.blogspot.com/2006/08/rock-version-of-pachabels-canon-in-d.html an I know you be digging it. Dis maan is too muckin fuch!
I access the site – and sure enough, Jerry C, whoever he is, does something pretty special with this, although the flashes of brilliant guitar work is a million light-years away from the purity of the original music. So if you’re into Pachabel (and Rock as well), check it out. All you purists please stay away – so you don’t bury me with your critiques.
It was another gloomy evening after the earlier thunder showers and the threat of another flooding. There is this book launch to attend, but the energy level is wanting and I must have dozed off.
Heeey maaan! Yo shouldda come down da café down Bareass way for da launch of Chan of a Thousan Gardens’ book on Sri Lanka style architechure. Da place be infested wit architecs – all hemmin an hawin bout dis an dat. Ran into ol Angel almos as soon as I got in dere an aks him what he tink bout da effort an he say dat anyone readin it will be givin credit where it weren’t due maaan. I aks him why, an he say dat dose expats be getting all da credit when it be da mighty guru GeeBee dat should be da star. All dem odders, dey be heavily influ-enced and be nottin more dan copy-cats. Dis maaan know what he be on about, so not havin read dat tome, ah take his word for it. Mah big hangup be da un-nachural color on da cover. Dat shade of blue, maaan, hit me right between da eyes an make me wince – twice! Even ol Chan agree when I aks him bout it. He tell me to talk to Cinimod! Aaanywaaay, we be havin a good ol time wit Illurik an his lovely Marani, Rock-back an his Chopper, ma maan Cini an da viva Zaney, Jeronimo, dat crazy Radn, tall an lissom Tappy, Bastin (comin to terms) and som odders – too many to menshun em all maaan. Da rain it peter out an da launch be fine in spite o dat early dampness. Good for da Thousan Garden maan.
I’m watching Steven Flemming get the Black Cats in position to eliminate Sri Lanka from the ICC Championship Trophy series, so Java joins in – clearly upset at the likely elimination of our guys.
Jus go ta sho maaan, dis game be wide open at all times – nearly, huh?
I knock off before the game is done (our team is out!) and see Java at the laptop.
Check dis out maan. I be putting dis on da blog for dose dat can get into Sesame Street(mah fave program) an dis be somting special. But beware of Java’s “consumer warning” attachment. “Any one dat be sensitive to what dey consider to be “profane” or “drug-related” should NOT – an ah repeat – NOT access dis stuff”. An dig dis – dere may be some chicks from Hendala, (an get a load o dese names!) Ogodapola, Bolagala an Kurikotuwa, struttin dere stuff, so dat fore-warned be fore-armed (do dat sound rite?). Aaaanywaaay… for dose dat insist, here it be to check out at dere own risk, maaan – http://www.ebonicpersuit.com/ghetto-sesame-street.htm .
I guess it’s another one of Java’s black (pardon the pun) humor numbers! It’s late and I hear the drizzle coming back as I hit the sack.
I was at this night-spot in Colombo with a film producer from NBC who is planning a docu-drama on tsunami-related incidents when I spotted Lester, sporting his best lounge-lizard demeanour, slithering closer to this nice looking lady at the bar. Knowing Lester the Lizard’s usual MO for preying on unsuspecting foreign bods of the fairer sex, I kept my eye on him whilst discussing the film project with Sol. Soon enough I could see that Lester was making his move. He had now wormed his way to two bar stools away from her and then, as I watched out of the corner of my eye, I saw him get up and walk by her, tripping just as he was adjacent. And as he stumbled, he knocked her drink, sending her glass clattering across the bar – the sound of breaking glass as it hit the floor by the bartender was quite audible even to where I was. Then came the dramatic bit. Lester got up off the floor looking suitably contrite and made his apologies – fawning and being suave at the same time (he has this knack!) and I see her accepting his apologies and his offer of another cocktail. The bartender mops up the mess and things get back to normal at the bar. In the meantime, our Lester has inveigled her into accepting his company and there they are chatting away. Poor thing – I think to myself, knowing our Lester’s penchant for perfidy. The lady looks East-European – decent, and not like so many of the hookers that hang around the night-spots looking for either the sugar-daddies or the young rich turks – often the offspring of politicos, doing their usual night-crawl in search of something, in exchange for the booze and cash, that they could never achieve by virtue of their own persona. Sol and I wrap up our discussion, arrange to meet the next day to work out the logisitics and head for the exit. Unfortunately for me, we have to pass the bar and although I try to be as inconspicuous as possible (I swear that Lester has compound eyes) he sees me. His greeting is as effusive as ever and he insists that both Sol and I join him and his “good friend Svetlana” (turns out she is from Slovania!) for a drink. Both Sol and I try our best to avoid this encounter, but Lester senses he’s onto something here when he gets a look at Sol and his very Jewish mien, and will not take “no” for an answer. So we agree to join them for just one drink. There we are the four of us at the bar and Lester decides to move to a table, so he calls the waiter and arranges it. In the meantime, Svetlana takes a walk to the ‘ladies’ and Lester orders a round. The drinks arrive, Lester starts up small talk with Sol, but it looks like Sol is hip to the trip and quickly finishes his drink, makes his excuses and leaves. No sign of Svetlana and Lester starts to look worried. I finish my brew and say goodnight. Lester is looking anxious and is getting fidgety. He tries to persuade me to have another drink and wait for his friend, but I know when to call it a day – especially when Lester is involved, so I leave and head for home.
Heeey maaan! Know what happen after you left dat ol lounge lizard Les last night? I snuck in an was checkin out da scene to see if dat broad com back – an she did maaan – wit two odders jus like her! Mus have bin to get Sol an you join Les an her in a good ol orgiastic bash. You leave dat bar jus in time maaan, unless you be lookin forward to mixin an matchin wit dem hookers, dat is!
Java is impossible! It’s all I can do to tune him out, but his persistence is something to behold!
Aaannywaay, tings start to hot up when dey get to da table an see jus Lester dere. Dey be talking in dis Slovak dialect lookin annoyed at Svetlana, so she ask Lester to order anodder round of drinks. Now we bot know ol Les – he start dis whole number to try to take dis broad for a good ol ride, an now here she be takin him to da cleaners. So dis ol lounge lizard decide to play da game to da end an he order anodder round an act like he be makin to fix up wit all tree of dem hookers, laffin and jokin and getting da odd squeeze an cuddle in at da same time. Cat shuurre put on a show. After da nex round of drinks, our Les head for da “mens”. I be sittin in da corner checkin out dem broads an see dem gettin all bent outta shape as da time pass an no Les in sight. Da waiter com up an give dem a bill. I see dem gesticulatin an arguing, but dat waiter he be adamant. He want dem to pay up or he call for da security. He say he don care bout no man called Lester. He say he don know what dey be talking bout, as he jus now come on duty an see no one but dem broads at da table. Dese hookers, dey be piiisssed ooofff, maaan. Da two dat Svetlana brought over, dey wade into her and abuse dat broad in dere dialect. Svetlana, she be madder dan a bitch in heat wittout a dog to fuck, but dey pay up an split. Ol Lester better not run into dem broads again or dey will bust his ass maaan.
I’m falling asleep and Java is fading out, but I must remember to stay away from Lester the Lizard – he’s bad news.
This is a funny old world – this world of cybernetics. And blogging – a relatively recent phenomena, looks like it’s going to make things even weirder in this world of instant access to the thoughts and emotions of anonymous entities that zip their head-trips through space, to land on sites that could provoke reactions that cause an endless stream of karmic energies, adding to the infinite strings that hold the universe together like so much glue. So is it when the strings start to unravel that the cause-effect syndrome starts to affect the psyche, which in turn reacts to cause the effects that result, which in turn…ad infinitum?
Wassup wit all dis sheet you bin on about maaan? You back on dis string-theoretical buuull? Know what tho? I bin checkin out dese sites on Kottu, an maaan, yo site look like reeely primitiv. No sophisto, no slick visuals, no links, no nottin maaan. Look like sheet! An den yo got dose yellow-ass bits dat suddenly spring out wit no method to da madness. Why don you do some classy visuals an make it look trippy an cool? Dis way it be mo attractive to dem surfers lookin for sheet to log on to. An since yo be usin ma name, da least yo could do would be to make it look koool, yeah?
Java’s got a point to ponder on. Now that this step into cyberspace has been taken, why not go the whole hog? I guess it’s just that I am such an ignoramus when it comes to the tech aspects of the business. I had a hard enough time of it just getting this show on the road, let alone dressing up the site. And besides, I haven’t a clue on how to set about it. Sure, I have ideas on what to put in there and I’m sure that I could get the hang of it pretty easily, but time is one constraint and putting someone on the trip of helping me out on this is another deterrent. So I guess I’ll wait until the serendipitous moment to get this going.
Serendipity maaann? Sheeet! Yo mean yo wait until some happenstance occurs dat make it all work out, huh? An in da meantime yo site be lookin shittier dan a public toilet in downtown Mumbai. I be shamed sociatin wit it maaann!
I can see that Java’s got this on his list of items he has ready to hassle me with – worse than Buzzy with a bone! But I have things to do – and how! So it’s back to the mundane. Check out my mail, attend to what needs responding to, there’s all sorts of ‘work-related’ matters that need my attention more than spiffying up the site. Jagger’s words keep playing over and over in my brain – a line from “Let it Bleed” – better left unsaid!
Two ‘cheer-up’ comments resulted from the doubts I expressed about this whole blogging business. From Indi – being cool and supportive, and from ‘darkchocolate’, who got Java all perky and determined to banish “THE” from his thought-process – except, he swore, when he runs into Indi – just so he (Indi) won’t twitch or cringe at his (Java’s) pronunciation or cliché- ridden characterisation. I told him not to be so damn considerate – especially after his outburst yesterday!
Shheeet maaan! Dat be a spontaneous reacshun – strait from da heart – da only way Java know how to respon. Non o dose games or gamesmanship – ain’t woth the fucking trouble maaan! Jus yo be telling it like it is an da rest take care o itself. An no hard feelings too. Dig?
I guess! One thing about Java I know for sure – no bullshit – period! Anyway, to get back to blogging and the reasons for it – could it be the need to express one’s ideas or expertise so that like-minded folk could access the information and either enjoy it or contribute towards the content or put it down or turn others on to a good thing or whatever it is that they tune in for? It must be! Do we bloggers suffer from bloated egos or have an irresistible urge to be noticed and (hopefully) adored? For sure we don’t want to get ripped apart by some genius who’s so ‘on the button’ that although we are shattered we have no recourse than to agree with the content that, in a nutshell, wipes all the self-indulgence out and deflates the self-impression we have of ourselves? Not unless one is masochistic, that is.
Heey maaan, jus yo hold on dere for a minit! I know dis cat dat blogs specially so he can attract dose putter-downers, an he aint no masochist. Den he like to start up som heavy dialog wit dem. Dey reel nasty too, but som get sooo clever (an he be on da ball as well, see) dat he have a good ol time of it takin dem roun dis metaphysical merry-go-roun until dey don know where dey be comin from or jus where dey be headin to. An den he pull his killer punch – knock dem right outta cyberspace he do. He digs dis sheet maaan. Give his ego a reel boost – like getting high. An he don even smoke!
Oh well, I guess it takes all types! Anyway, getting back to my search for the reasons we get into this…
An den again maaan, I know dis chick dat blogs jus so she can attract da right type an she can get laid. So she make up all dese elaborate stories bout herself an wrap it in dese reely attractive situashuns dat make som folk comment in da hope of getting somting goin wit dis broad. She respon to dis sheet and roun it goes until, as she tell me, she make a strike on more dan a few occashuns. Only one time she be come on to by a dyke who didn take “no” for da answer, so she got fucked wit a dildo. An den she say it aint all dat bad, so she switched, maaan. Now she got some odder strategy an it don include dudes. How bout dat sheet!
Trust Java to get into the less well known aspects of blogging, but there you are. I guess there’s a whole load of reasons to blog, but still, it would be an interesting study.
Java’s had enough of this. I know from his distant gaze. The bud is out, as is the clipper and the papers. The sound is on and this time it’s a number by Keith Reid, Gary Brooker and Mathew Fisher – also known in those days as Procul Harum
For you (whose eyes were open wide Whilst mine refused to see)
I’m sore in need of saving grace Be kind and humor me
I’m lost amid a sea of wheat Where people speak but seldom meet
And grief and laughter strange but true Although they die they seldom cry
An ode by any other name I know may read more sweet
Perhaps the sun will never shine Upon my field of wheat
But still in closing let me say For those too sick to see
Though nothing shows someone knows I wish that one was me
Java passes the doob as we get lost in the music.
It was a good Friday (no, not the one before Easter) night at the Deeb. Jeronimo was back, so the old die-hard fans were out in force to get back into his special sound, move and groove and generally have a high old time of it. And as a special treat, Vida San Sone made a cameo appearance, so cousins held sway and jammed the joint. This talent from the alma mater is special and it was no coincidence that the place was well represented with a sterling collection of the frat-pack.
Know what maaan? I bin watchin dose cats an chicks do dere thang out dere an dey sure be havin a good ol time. Almos like a private party – mosly frens mosly trippin! Cinimod and Zaney – lookin luscious, da Sheriff an his lovely Icey Jane, Estev, Nahorp, Mr. Zippy, Bastin (still lonely an still lookin), Mitty an Alice, Mini Mala an her dude Junan, dat crazy honky Radn, Drew an Monnise, Dalstein, da Moon lady who tol me her parents were hippies from da west coast, dat crazy Irishman Gordy an a host of odders – all agog an digging it. An did yo see what ol Estev do while he be doin his dirty-dance number wit Mini Mala? No? Sheet maan, one of dose moves had her lil ol titty loosen up an fly outta her blouse. Yo shoudda seen ol Nahorp an Mr. Zippy who be watchin all dis – dere bug eyes almos fell otta dere sockets! Dere be som odder sheet goin on down too – all good fuunn tho, an not a bad vibe in da whole place maaan. Makes you tink, huh?
Unfortunately there are time constraints at the Deeb, so the bar closes at the prescribed time and there is a major exodus, all heading for the ‘Blues’. The party continues.
So da nex nite we all head out to da café on Bareass Boulevard to listen to Jeronimo and Vida San Sone – again. It’s a nasty-ass evenin with rain and blowin an da dampness everywhere – but not enough to dampen da spirits. Nahorp, his lovely Gowers, da Dancer and ma man first have to stop off at Mr. Zippy’s as it’s Eshie’s tirteent birtday and she wants us dere. Da place is full of her teenage frens and dey be lovin da disco and psychedelic light show upstairs. We join dem on da floor after a few loosen-uppers an da place be rockin! I bin checkin yo guys out, maan – suure gave dose lil ol girls some good moves to look at. An how bout dem lil thangs huh! Nymphet city, maan – make a maan wish he were back in hi-school. Whoa-wheee!
Anyway, we make it to the café and join the rest of the crowd – many from the night before, but I am guessing that there would have been many more had the rain not pissed down earlier. The music is divine. The cousins get it on. The jazz standards keep coming. But all too soon it is time to buzz off and we head on home.