Sitting here at T and Me Tea Company in Gulfport, biding time until the open mic at Mangia Gourmet starts at 7:30. What a perfect occasion to put in some NaBloPoMo time.
Checked my stats, the WordPress tutorial was right about being obsessed with it, and I’ve had some views from South Korea. Which explains my phonetic title. 😉 Fun facts: my brother is married to a Korean woman. My nieces and nephew are delightfully insane. My sorority daughter is an American of Korean heritage. And I can eat the mess outta some Korean food!
Sat here with Johnny the blues guitarist and I said, “You know what the most perfect song is?”
“Kenny Rogers. Lady.”
He made a face. “I don’t know the song.”
“Yeah you do. Laady…I’m your knight in shining armour…and I love youuu…”
Still with the face.
I continue, “You have made me what I am aaaanddd…I am yourrrss”
I just serenaded Johnny.
He’s holding his head. “I know the song. I don’t like it.”
“I can’t think of it right now.”
We decide we should reboot the song, a funk version, keep the lyrics, I sing it and bam! I’m the next Sarah McLaughlin. Gulfport’s got a significant lesbian population; we’d be a hit!
My plan is to take my wall graffiti and use Thursday through Sunday to blitzkrieg my manuscript. Take small naps, like a Masai warrior on watch duty, eat only protein and drink coffee til my blood runs brown. Yeah man, I can so pull it off. As long as no one bothers me.
Guess I’ll go warm up the pipes. If Johnny shows up, I’m reciting this poem because it reminds me of him:
The Space Between the Words
Now you have gone into that space
You have gone into the pauses in our conversation
The time beyond time and time within time
You are in those moments when we sit in the audience
Waiting for the curtain to rise
And the end when the curtain has closed
And the actors have taken their bows
You are within the pauses of the bird’s song
When we strain to hear the next note
In the water between the fish
In the traveler’s silence within a foreign language
You are in the air that fills the sky
In the moments after the sunset
You are between night and day
Spirit next to soul
You are in the space between the words
The moment before the artist picks up her brush
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