summer

There's nothing quite as charming as summer on the east coast in my eyes:

Walking barefoot on warm grass.

Warm evenings with no need to layer up due to the incorrigible fog rolling in over the mountains.

Hazy, humid, languid days that press upon and stretch you out to a peaceful yet ecstatic point of bliss.

Freckles surfacing in the sun, coating me in that far away feeling of youth.

Smiles on strangers faces because they've crawled out of winter's hibernation.

Lush green life devouring the landscape.

Sundresses, skirts, sandals...wearing next to nothing on your glistening skin...

The orange-pink sun dipping into the horizon late in the evening, casting the warmest glow over the land.

Fireflies quietly igniting the darkest shadows.

Refreshing summer flavored cocktails outdoors until the wee hours with friends.

Crickets outside of your open window at night, lulling you off to the most pleasant of dreams.

brown and allen

We went and saw James Brown last night. Electric. He's 73 (I believe) and still gettin' down onstage. What a lively audience. We sat in the 8th row so we had a good look at his large ensemble, his backup singers, dancers, his glittery smiley self. We sat behind 3 tiny silver clouds of hair, it was all you could see above their seats, so tiny these little old ladies, and once the music blared they were groovin' just as much as everyone else, if not more...what a sight!

Quite a contrast to Woody Allen and his New Orleans jazz band the night before, as they sat languidly in a row of chairs an hour and a half. Old tyme music made me shake my shoulders back and forth as we sat but Hubby informed me that I was shaking the whole row so I tried to redirect that energy into my right knee. The crowd was frozen rows of white hair, gold jewelry, sports-jackets, and comb-overs.

James' crowd was studded with zoot suits and fancy canes, all colors of men's fedoras, shiny solid ties tucked under pinstriped wide shouldered jackets, wide brimmed ladies hats and hair braided with strings of golden brightness. Shoulder-padded ladies jackets and shimmery fabrics all pushing tightly upon each-other as there was a mad rush for the entrance only minutes before the show.

Shame on my lack of solidarity when I followed the crowd in silence while Woody's band walked out single file on stage amidst the quiet and then the crowd blew up once they saw him trail out second to last. It hurt my heart and I refused to clap for him. I saved my emphatic claps for the banjo solo's and chuckled after Woody's fluttering clarinet playing. He was humble all-in-all in the end and their overpriced ticket sales were a benefit for New Orleans musicians.

goodness

I am so embarrassed to admit this, but I logged on late last night after having a friend over for cocktails. Our one casual martini turned into hours and hours of wonderful word exchanges and then I grabbed a fresh bottle of six grapes port out of the cupboard and before any of us knew it...it was empty, the candles were dimming out, and his fresh pack of cigarettes had morphed into a pile of mangled stubs and ash in the orange square ashtray.

In any case, I now vaguely recall sitting here typing this entry last night, but in all honesty I had thought I dreamt it when an image of it flashed quickly in my mind today, and only now when I sit to check emails and see 2 new comments had been added did I realize that it had been real. So what I'm really trying to say is that was my first buzzed/drunken blog post! Ick!

Not to worry, I can be dramatic at times, I'm sure I'll post random tidbits from time to time. It is true though that I am overcome with the desire to write in my neglected journal, and I somehow can't manage to do both, it's one or the other for me...all or nothing.

I mean...what's the point really?

No one reads this blog anyway...this may be my blogger goodbye post, perhpas it's time to go back to my hand written journals.