Saturday Night on The Town

One by one the pre-designated companions called in to say sorry, another time, so Club 6 and KRS-1 made do without my groove thing. Instead I went to a potluck dinner party in East Oakland with my buddy Maira. There was a slight misremembrance of location and then a misremembrance of which direction the street numbers increased in, which delayed our arrival to the point that only four people and a ~5 month old black dog recently sprung from the pound remained. The four people were all guys I had never met before but they were funny and cool enough. One told a good story about going deaf while working as a soundman at the Starry Plough. The last show he did he couldn't hear the mic feedback so everyone was frowning at him. So painful, so funny, you know you're a rocker when you're deaf. After awhile we went upstairs to the host's makeshift studio. They had three guitars, a bass, three amps, and about 20 tricked out peddles. Not feeling confident enought on the guitar to join in, I sang without a mic until they busted one out, my medley of Bob Dylan, Nillson, Alan Jackson, Lucinda Williams, and Jefferson Airplane songs with some freestyles thrown in. The first and best freestyle was about a fantasy place deep in the woods by the creek where I'd go to get away. Soothing visuals, for me anyway. The arrival of two more guests broke up the session and we drove back to Maira's place. She has a wonderful backyard lined with flowers and a wide variety of sculptures. The one we played with was funnest though, an old heating oil tank or somesuch 7' tall capsule shaped piece of steel stood on it's end. Some joyous soul torched out a bunch of shapes and put in a door with hinges so that it's kind of an outdoor woodstove. Four warped L-shaped smokestacks, like on a ship, are on top. They spewed flames once it got good and going, the big dipper as a backdrop from where I sat, got to feeling it. The radiant warmth hit my face, neck & chest, jacket zipper came down. The air being crispy and me being a died in the wool fire lover, twas quite a pleasant sculpture. Enjoyed the smell of woodsmoke in my coat all the way home, and upon arrival found that Jack Frost had visited. Ran one hand along the ice covered hood of my wife's car to savor the relatively rare East Bay crystals before braving the end of the night.