Today’s Music: Hank Mobley – Soft Impressions
Days Til Spring: 19!!!
Famed Aborignal Didgeridoo player Jedda Biralee strides to the stage resplendent in his reflective grey double breasted Armani suit.
Because didgeridoos are cool.
Anyway, Jedda draws his 12 foot didgeridoo with him, fitting it into into the carved dingo holders, the upturned mouth resting atop a sandstone representation of Wayamba, the turtle. The house lights dim as the spotlight stabs through the cloud of patchouli oil and clove cigarettes, drilling through the steam of designer espresso and picks out a man dressed in black ski jacket, black ski pants, black scarf, thick black glo- Look, he’s covered head to toe because he’s freezing, and his clothes are all black, ok?
Anyway, Jedda blows a low heart-thrumming tone through the Didgeridoo as El Guapo comes to the stage…
Sparkling, reflecting, dazzling
shards of light that bounce
across my eyes.
My breath belabored as I
When will it end?
Will it ever end?
I can’t see an end.
I lean into you…
as I shovel the damn snow…
Today’s Music: Ben Webster – Solitude
If he was La Guapa, El Guapo would look like this.
But with a goatee.
The swirl of steam escapes the triple espressos,mingling with the wisps of smoke from lavender cigarettes, the waves parting as El Guapo saunters to the stage of the dimly lit room. His black felt beret matching his black wool suit matching his (mostly) black goatee matching his black Ray Ban sungla-
El Guapo turns his tripping into a smooth “I meant to do that” hop and twirl, removing his sunglasses and hopping on stage.
He nods to Sufjiannan Eisenberg on the electric glockenspiel, and takes his place in front of the mic.
A pinpoint spotlight lifts him out of the dark, slowly expanding to illuminate his presence on the stage…
I thrust in my arm as you close around me.
You open, parting with a whisper as you swallow me whole.
Gently, I press against your button.
You sigh, then rush
Together we ride
I feel it coming…
There it is-
You shudder, then come
I step off the elevator.
Today’s Music: Iggy Pop – The Passenger
*Zildjian Clevis whips two shiny silver spoons from his pockets, one in each hand. He moves them both to his right hand, and slowly at first but gaining speed, clacks, plunks and drums them together in a rising crescendo of madness, then-
Feel the intensity of poetry.
And my porkpie hat.
*El Guapo strides to the stage, clove cigarette in hand, travel brochures overflowing his pockets, ostrich feather rising from his porkpie hat
He takes a long drag on the cigarette, the scent of cloves and fresh cut glass permeating the coffee house. He nods to Zildjian*
Gleams in the sun in the driveway.
Everything in its appointed place.
The GPS as a beacon.
To accompany us on our way.
The road unrolls before us.
Quiet companionship interrupted by a question:
“Did you lock the front door?”
We turn around…
Today’s Music: Sandra Boynton – Cows
*El Guapo, resplendent in an ironic Hawaiian shirt strides to the mic*
“Beats and Birds, Dudes and Dames, Tonight I’d like to introduce the famous Ray Kroc, providing musical accompaniment on the cowbell.”
*The man on the back of the stage looks surprised. He rushes up to El Guapo, and (covering the mic), they have a brief but heated conversation. Ray drops back offstage and begins pulling something. El Guapo hangs his head and shakes it before returing to the mic.*
“Apparently there was a miscommunication.” *He glares at Ray who is now smiling, positioned alongside a Holstein.* “He’ll be playing the…cow.”
*The spotlight focuses on El Guapo*
The traveling man
Goes places others only dream.
Some bring laughter,
Others make him scream.
But when he comes back
(for he’ll always return)
Continues to burn
He asks once *moo* more,
That Travelin’ Man
“Does anyo*MOOOOO*ne know…
Where I am?”
Today’s Music: Stan Getz – Autumn Leaves
Tonight’s special guest Marvin Suggs, resplendent in a very sparkly vest, stands behind the Mupphaphone, mallet at the ready.
You can see his inner Beatnik hidden in the ruffles.
Who knows what excitement giddy-ifies his brain? No one can tell from his expression, as he is a consummate performer.
The stage goes dark. A single burning diamond white LED picks out El Guapo as he strides to the microphone, his beret cutting a swirling path through the cloud from his clove cigarette.
The desolate wind
The scrub trees of the plain
*ow OW Ow*
I huddle deep
Even though it
The wind is a reflection
of the dark.
And for those of you unfamiliar with the Muppaphone: