(no subject)
The Ural blonde found out her mother has a tumor in her uterus, so the Ural blonde freaked out and did not want to go to the concert. I felt bad for her, but she wasn't so eager to fly back to Yekaterinburg, so I went to the concert anyway. Called my good friend's ex-girlfriend two hours before the concert and she was game. She is a German ex-model, now she markets European haute couture, traveling and schmoozing all over the country. Apparently in almost every corner of the American south and the midwest there are little boutiques that cater to the miniscule market of eurofashion. I can only imagine the bloated wisconsin mamas in Jimmy Choo shoes. No, the German girl does not sell shoes, but anyway, she has a certain image to uphold, and every time I see her she blows me away with her cool, nonchalant charm. There is something of Uma Thurman in her, but she has a much prettier, kinder face than Thurman, more chiseled and pleasing. We used to all dance till the morning, party and smoke hashish. I never tried E, but everyone else was on it, and everyone wanted to hug and touch each other. No, I never joined a group-sex thing either, excusing myself politely when one was about to occur. Something about my inhibited sexuality, or feeling self-conscious of my extra thirty pounds. Anyway, she would always tell me that she loved me. It would make me feel a bit uncomfortable, because she would whisper it in my ear in front of her boyfriend, G., my only American friend. One time, a week after 9/11 G. assembled a party of friends, to chill out and absorb. I got so high, I cried, hugging K. and G. and the German girl. Then a year later the German girl broke up with G., for reasons I strongly suspected had something to do with group sex, abortions and her newly discovered conservatism. Since then we've been friends, but very private friends. She never whispered anything in my ear anymore, and shared her dating stories with me. What struck me was her loneliness. I could not fathom how a woman that beautiful, with so many friends and VIP passes to any club in town could be so lonely, and lead such a secluded, quiet life. She told me that most women her age (late twenties/early thirties) lead that sort of life, either because they are married, or because they have despaired of the male half of the population. Her boyfriend lives in Rome, and she sees him every three months or so. WTF? So she was very pleasantly surprised by the unexpected invitation to the Bebel Gilberto concert.
The concert was perfect. A small, unassuming woman with big hips had the silkiest voice, though not as silky as it is on her digitally-retouched records, but silky enough for my rough ears. The smiling Negro on the drums, the maraccas and bossa nova in New York in November, and the dancing German girl next to me... After the concert we plopped into a little east village bar for a drink, two drinks, three drinks... We ended up drunk, munching on french fries on the stoop of her building. She complained of extreme foot pain, caused by the stiletto heels and asked me if I wanted some tea upstairs.
What do you think was my response?
The concert was perfect. A small, unassuming woman with big hips had the silkiest voice, though not as silky as it is on her digitally-retouched records, but silky enough for my rough ears. The smiling Negro on the drums, the maraccas and bossa nova in New York in November, and the dancing German girl next to me... After the concert we plopped into a little east village bar for a drink, two drinks, three drinks... We ended up drunk, munching on french fries on the stoop of her building. She complained of extreme foot pain, caused by the stiletto heels and asked me if I wanted some tea upstairs.
What do you think was my response?