I'll have to admit it, the right hand side of 2 am is a place seldom seen by outfoxed.
Went to see my pal Danielle and her band last night, or early this morning if you wanna get technical. Now I'll be kind, I won't go into any histrionics trying to describe their music, which is of the folk / rock / storytelling genre. They started at 9 and played til, well, 2 am like I said.
It was just a momentary thing, but at one point in a song, Danielle took her flute to start the bridge, leaned forward, closed her eyes and...
just breeeeeeeaaathed life into that thing.
She pretty well stopped a bar, and a couple hundred loud people dead in their tracks. It was so lovely, so... I don't know, lamenting and mournful. With nary a vocal description, you knew she was playing a dirge for people at World Trade and the other terrorist attack sites. And when she finished up, and stepped back a little, there was no applause. Because we all sat with our mouths agape and realized what she had just pulled off.
You think about things like that, when you wake up the next morning. And you wonder if really, in your beer enhanced fog, you might have just created a moment out of pure desire to have one. We're all having some moments like that these days. Real, or forced, or hyped, or personal.
Music is like that sometimes, at its' very best. Souls speak.
That was a real Danielle moment. Peace, girl.
Let me see if I can insert a phrase or two employed by my younger colleagues here.
I'm bummed out. This so totally does not rock.
I was sitting at a table last night with a good friend and his wife, who spend an insane amount of time at this club. Ally wasn't there, she's off at a softball tournament with eldest (see? I told you this softball stuff goes on year round).
Somewhere around her twelth round the wife of good friend starts a one sided conversation with me. I happened to notice her husband had left the table.
And, well, this was a conversation that went waaaay beyond the teasing and flirt- fun- chats I've had with this woman in the past. I mean, I might see her a dozen times a year, so it's always been a pretty light and happy relationship, if you can even call it that.
But not last night. Whoa. She basically wanted to get a room, okay? And I don't mean for interior decorating. Furthermore, she wanted me to know how much she liked Ally and the kids, and was going on about how it would probably never happen, and how she had harbored this infatuation for a long time, and all the time wanting a response out of me.
Me. Sitting there trying to calculate how much booze this woman actually had in her. Okay she had a lot. But she can hold a lot. And she was stringing sentances together with an acceptable rate of slurring her nouns.
And her husband / my buddy comes back and sits and she kinda clams up (groan, bad action verb there, bad). After a while, he sets off again. And, avast there, she starts in again.
Now for those of you hungrily leaning into the screen waiting for the grope / porn scene to unfold, I'm gonna dissapoint you.
I'm dissapointed in myself, too. Instead of a firm "flattered but not interested" or "your husband and I both think you've had a few too many tequilas", I wimped out.
Most of what came out of my craw was "ack, uh, huh?, izzat so?, hmmmm." But after the show was over, I did manage to extricate myself and head for the door with a minimum of fuss and a convivial air.
I got a feeling if I told Ally about all this she'd be putting a spit shine on the frying pan and headin' off to do battle. Hopefully not with me. But telling her puts the whole round and round conflict thing into motion. A whole circle of friends thing. The rumor mill, the soap opera come to life.
Sigh. I hate that stuff.
Just wondering - why is it that I can have a three day growth of beard on me and be dressed in my best clean out the garage uniform and be attractive to any woman?
Good thing I keep the suit for special occasions only.
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