[Hokah- "he acceded"] [yich'aak k'ak- "Jaguar-Paw"],
the Divine Calakmul
[Ahau- Lord] [ilah- he saw it]
God K, Divine Dos Pilas Lord
it happened at Nab Tunich
Last night Mols, Jamie, and I went to the Sixth & I in DC to see Benjamin Booker and Hurray for the Riff Raff (for the second time in so many months). The performances were incredible, and the interaction between artist and audience resonated a very specific mystery to me that I think I’ll need to mull over before I can explain properly.
Hurray for the Riff Raff brought us to Asheville in the first place. While checking things out downtown on Saturday Mol recognized Alynda and Yosi, and we met them and chatted a little about New Orleans, Asheville, and their tour. Warm and receptive folks. Later that night we skipped to the back of the venue after watching Hurray perform and got all worked up dancing to Shovels and Rope. Jamie was twirling everyone walking in or out and we had a fucking amazing time. After the encore Yosi came out joking and dancing with us too. So here’s to seeing them in April when they swing through DC!
I have a hard time not being mesmerized by street musicians. I appreciate everything about the craft. Bumtown Messaround pulled us in from blocks away with that complex dixieland hokum! I think they were friends with the Crow Quill Night Owls, but I’m not sure. Either way, check both out!
What was the practical scenario? Mol’s was the best: that while browsing at the national zoo an escaped great ape punched Jacob in the femur, fracturing it before running off. I think every scenario after that involved gorilla sounds coming from the distance. Here I am traction splinted and attached to the backboard.
First Tennessee has this awful sculpture of abstract people punching into one another. Than Tennessee has this fantastic Dolly Parton publicity machine that sings to you and makes everything right with the world again.