Faith Regained and Moisture Lost in Monday Midnight Shakedown

After a day of plunging toilets and chasing wasps in a rainjacket, I had a short nap and got to see Amadou & Mariam at Joe's Pub. Maybe I was tired, maybe I was enchanted, but I felt like there were hundreds of Chinese dragons coarsing beneath the city streets; we were strange hold-outs from some undiscovered apocalyplse. Magic. My parents were still young, living in the village, and throwing eggs at late night disco revelers when Television was peaking, but I felt like Amadou's guitar work made up for anything I might have missed. Fender Stratocaster, your touch is familiar, your seduction unkind and irresistable. When played well, I soak in your tone torrent. One couple shouted pretty much all of the lyrics, which was especially impressive since a) they're written in French and b) the album was released in the states last week. xdedicatedx. The hand drum guy was pretty wily, but no big intrusion. White people had fun. Black people, too. I spotted one of those awesomely cozy thuggish guys dressed in a red t-shirt and a Phillies hat sucking on a cherry Charms pop sitting next to some guy that probably was an anthropology professor that lights up a joint at the table after a dinner party with his students. Also, the drummer reminded me that muscular French men with ponytails have the fucking groove on lockdown. She was kind of egg-shaped and he twirled like a fire dancer. Last night, a blind couple from Mali saved my life, etc. In other news, a big Welcome Home! to the snakehead fish.