Lady K at her show – foto by smith
lust vs love – it ain’t the meat, it’s the emotion.
lady left with her mom last night for a two day resort re-bonding ritual sisterhoodsomething somewhere in ohio. last night was our first night apart since she moved in 25 months ago, this morning first morning alone.
past 23 months except for jogging, going to beauty shops, or visiting friends, we’ve been togther 24 / 7 / 365 – frequently in strange lands with stranger stress. ours is an odd relationship. but then, all relationships are odd.
i was going to go to 2 art openings last night but sat instead in solitude and silence and read and wrote. no sense seeking people when alone’s right here. so i was my own art piece and audience – performance of one for party of none.
though today i did do social work on my own. went to 6-chili sports party at Pat’s In The Flats bar, bicycled over to Peter Ball’s to jam, and pedaled in cold wind rain to monthly round robin reading. i’m doing 2 pair socks, long john bottoms, jeans, tee-shirt, long-sleeved shirt, long-sleeved pullover, 3 sweaters, long scarf, pullover watchcap and gloves to beat bicycle cold. it was however invigorating today cycling through the cold with the rain and wind in my face. like black and white film noir.
peter’s apartment’s floor to ceiling wall to wall home recording studio stuff – electronic units stacked on electronic units with an occasional mic and a lot of keyboards in between. he creates music while i voice sing chant my poems. neither of us know what the other’s doing, 1 time through stew. today we did 4 jams. they’re strange pieces, off putting. bit tom waits, bit captain beefheart, bit eraserhead, bit dark side of ted mack’s original amateur hour. i may like them. here’s the words to one we did today, a tender love ballad written for Lady K 18 months ago:
Wife
Let me be your rat dog baby
Let me lick your underside
Lace my like to you my lady
Stick my stack in overdrive
You thing my swing in ever land
You wind my wig in counter time
You slip my slide in slither land
You bounce my bump in rhythm rhyme
No rubber bumper baby bugger
Our poems and art offspring will be
No inside box no barcode rudder
We free rove range about our be
So let me be your rat dog baby
Please let me lick your underside
I’ve laced my like to you my lady
You stick my stack in overdrive
foto by smith