Faux Fu

Friday, June 15, 2007

"Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall..."


The Lovely Carla and I ventured out to Uncommon Ground last night. We met at the Addison el stop (Addison & Clark), the home of Wrigley Field. There's nothing like being totally stone-sober, navigating the streets after an afternoon baseball game on a hot summer day. It seemed everyone was totally blitzed out, blind drunk. It was a silly carnival of sport's crowd victims. The sports bars that ring the playing field were filled with the mad, raucous vibe of people over-medicated on hops and malts. It was kind of fun and funny to watch the human carnival in all it's crazy ridiculousness. It also explains the attraction of baseball for many of these folks. Baseball is such a slow, (dare I say), boring game, I think for many souls it's really just an excuse to imbibe prodigious quanitities of cheap, American beer.

It's not like I haven't been in that particular zone myself. I remember stacking empty cups one upon another, and verbally harrassing Mr. Charlie Hustle himself one blistering hot summer afternoon, oh so long ago. So, I do speak from some personal experience. But it's been a long, long time, and well Mr. Hustle still isn't in the Hall of Fame and well maybe that is some kind of justice. There was a time when I wore a baseball uniform, but hell, that was Little League, and really I topped out in about 7th grade.

So we went to Uncommon Ground for a great meal and to listen to some music. We actually scored an upcoming a gig to play there in a couple of months and well, we were doing our homework. What a great place. And the music was excellent. I especially liked this group, Rue Royal. Two people who create a joyful noise.

I flashed on the idea that each of us carries a certain vibration. It's unique to us, like a strand of DNA, like a fingerprint. Now really I think Pete Townsend from the Who actually wrote a song about this very same topic. Sometimes the vibration is clear and beautiful and resonant. Sometimes the vibration is soggy and bloated and medicated. It's our instrument. We will do with it what we will.

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