I thought a sex-in-the-cityesque blog could free my creative mess inside, and reconcile my lifestyle to the ideals of the world.
I'm just starting in the middle, though. I'm not going backward to NYC or that ET guide.
I'm starting with last night.
The current sexy situation: Shakers and Fancy men with soul.
Starting out:
Sometimes, you go all out.
You put on thigh-highs with the short skirt, apply night make-up and don the Maker’s Mark black tee.
Some nights, it’s necessary.
Tonight the black boots are tucked under dark skinny-jeans, and my loyalties aren’t vested in a band-tee but a long-sleeved tastefully tight top which draws little attention to sexy me.
First st
op:
Founder’s with friends.
Is it mug-club night? Must be.
Pete and Liz are at the bar enjoying the atmosphere, and each other.
Stopping only for a handshake, our table calls to us from deeper in the pub.
Shakers and tambourines scattered along with mugs and glasses beckon invitingly for the seated to create spicy rhythms while shelling peanuts.
It’s an assembly of percussionists.
Bill Vits travels with this shaker-sideshow, and Hugo Claudin encourages the entire affair.
I’m crashing--with permission--taking my fancy-man out to meet some old friends.
Fancy plays guitar and sax; he travels well.
Porter and Cherry ale the popular samples while music and friends form.
Observation:
There’s a natural drive among artists in this city.
They overcome the lack of support; it does not diminish the desire to create.
Whether it’s house-venues such as Mexicans Sans Frontiers or artist communities, open mics or independent theatres, these artists initiate the avenue, generate awareness and liberate creative forces in themselves and others.
Moving on:
Eastown isn’t for hepcats.
Maybe it once was. I moved here in November ’04.
I’ve seen hipsters. I know Juliet Bennet-Rylah.
Eastown is home to a more bluesy-lost-soulful lot.
Who’s who:
In Billy’s no one calls him ‘Fancy,’ and he feels right at home.
Hot Pockets on stage, a Southpaw sighting upon entry and Oberon on tap, he might play, and I might dance.
Of course, we do.
Kenny entered and danced with every lovely girl at the bar. Mia found her feet; I took a spin.
Stepping up to lead guitar, Andy and Chris added flavor to the three piece.
Scotty P’s special effects kept everyone on their toes, while Joe’s rich, soulful voice and steady rhythm led the dance.
Eye on Dick showed his bearded face, along with Morale’s Christian Kremo.
The end:
Closing comes too soon.
Last weekend the adventure was Chicago, where a 4am closing feels too early.
There was talk of Grand Coney, but that’s all it was.
1 comment:
Good post. I like how this is written.
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