Last night, before hitting Bar13, I wrote one serious tirade concerning today’s anniversary jam concerning carpet-micers (think carpet baggers meet waana-be Def Poets) that was a perfect snap shot of “bitter Oscar.” The nice crowd, seeing some old faces, very tight work of Ross Gay, Abena workin’ it out on stage, and (gasp!) some dancing has changed my outlook.
This morning I find myself somewhat centered thanks to some early morning (well- early for me) yoga that is helping my knees. I’m also sporting my lucky t-shirt and doing just about all I can to insure that I show up at the Blue Ox with the best demeanor possible. The carpet-micers will still show but so will a ton of people that have helped make this road as easy as possible. My intuition tells me that more than one good surprise waits for me by the end of tonight and I think I will ring it in with a toast of Scotch. Maybe half a tumbler just to say “Hot Damn! From here to the next every show better and better”
Then again, I may just get seriously pissed off and end up writing the scathing rant tomorrow in the AM, which is what most of you fuckers like reading about, right?
Love ya like the ball dropping in Times Square