Day One

Well, I guess I should start out by saying that I took my Secret Santa gift certificate to Tower Records and bought two albums. One is called Folon . . . The Past, by Salif Keita. It made me think about NYC and my days eating couscous and Lamb Mafe (I think that is how you spell it). I actually started to crave those golden kernels of micropasta, and a peanut sauce or something sweet and onionie. That all takes me bak to walking through Harlem; special nights at the Sound Factory Bar and Octogon, and having a big glass of sorrel or ginger while eating something spicy. Damn me for getting stuck here! Well, what can one do?

The second album is "blackboxhits&mixes". I jammed that bad boy all the way home. I swear I don't even remember driving. I just got to the house as if I was in a Jetson mobile (remember that). I needed it. I wanted to remember what that time was like. Being in college, having dreadlocks, playing in the band, falling in love with house music and a couple of other episodes that I won't mention here. Hell, I might become president one day. Marth Wash will be in my cabinet. She negotiated herself out of that legal fiasco of Black Box, I am sure she could be secretary of state.

And on a side note, the whole Source "hot ass mess" mess has got me tripping too. More on that, with links. Later though. This is my first post.

I love the way music can tie-up past and present. Things that I am going through now get a new meaning when I play certain songs.

Funny, I asked this chick at Tower for Black Box and she did not know who they were. The day before I asked for Terence Trent D'Arby, and her co-worker did not know who the hell he was. And then again today, after finding this wonderful Australian Import of Black Box, I asked for Dalida . . . she looked so surprised to see that Tower carried it, but her look of surprise tripped me out. I teach kids her age, and now they are running the cash register at Tower Records. I remember when that place was just a nondescript space across from Vanderbilt. It's almost been 20 years since Terence Trent D'Arby. 15 or so since Black Box.

The sad fact of the matter is that I am aging. I just did not expect for it to be so painless. It just happens day by day without any fanfare until nobody in the freakin' record store recognizes a single word coming out your mouth. Infact, they sigh just before you reach their little magnet school asses.

But other than that. A good day at the job. No stress. Tons of flirting as usual, and talk about the New Year. What will it bring. I know I gotta get my ass in gear . . . how about that?!


PS
The older 30 something guy that worked behind the counter gave me the fever while I was looking at the T-shirts that benefit the New Orlean relief effort (they mean the musicians, not the black folk). I might go back and pick up a shirt. He looks stranded too. But I did not feel like it was love at first sight. Just interest at first sight. He is interested in me. I got interested in him. He was organizing the Vocalist section. I thought he was a customer. I'll hit him up same time next week.

Interesting.