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Played at the coffee shop
2003-04-24 - 1:06 a.m.


before/after
strangely non-functional guestbook

I threw my guitar cases down inside the coffeshop saturday night.

The crowd bustled.  Behind the counter the slightly built teenage coffee jerk boiled over with angst, saying to my inquiry about playing, "I don't give a shit if you play your guitar, dude."  Being thin and undistinguished he'd clearly never been laid before and it was getting to him.

I sighed as I tried to figure out the coffee dispensation system.  The decaf pot availed itself to me and worked like magic.  I set up a chair on the stage, tossed my copy of "The Misfortunes of Virtue" by Marquis De Sade by my sunglasses and unslung my guitar to the low amazement of the caffinated crowd, their awe was palpable.

It was my baby, my chrome steel body resonator guitar, and in its shiny girth, it is amazing.  It is a weapon, and I use it with fine execution, plying my slide to slit the throats of men, steal their souls and woo the hearts of women.

I intended to play for fifteen minutes, instead, I played for two hours.  People came and left in shifts, so I kept playing.  I would have stopped at one point, but got asked to play a song.

She wasn't too bright, but had the gleam of the shrewdly corrupt, a woman who could get what she wanted with a minimum of difficulty until she runs into someone smarter than her self, which means she won't get too far, but prey on the crudely dumb.

"Are you supposed to sound like Elvis?"  she asked.

She asked me to sing "Can't help falling in love" but instead called it"Fools rush in".  I knew what she wanted, and played it, sang the lines straight "..can't help falling in love, with you" to her while her dim boyfriend looked on, talking with someone else, attentions elsewhere, manipulated into a machismo cock fight fest with another guy who did too much coke in the eighties, leaving much of his hair there also.

She smiled and watched me close.  In fact all the women did.  I was eyed like a piece of meat all night long and I loved every minute of it.

A group of kids shuffled in and out of the coffee shop.

"The couch in back is just so hot...its so hot in here."  they said.  As they trundled out in a bunch, one girl shrieked something to the shushing scorn of her clique mates about sucking my cock.  On and on, I played.

I made eyes at another girl, the cutest in her clique, the kids dressed up as though some sort current day revival of grease was going to happen spontaneously, all color and flash.  Her boyfriend saw what was happening, and their table left.

Sunken in my own world of sounds, I heard the applause and the praise, the people tapping along, getting into it in their own way.

I looked up after stopping at one point, some other teenagers were at the counter buying coffee cups, motioing towards me, as if to say, "Whos this guy?".

I didn't mention my name all night.

The slightly built overworked coffee jerk looked at me and leaned into the counter, "He's fucking awesome."

I'll take that. 


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