|
PRAGUE
Jul 9, 2007 16:49:28 GMT -5
Post by Dave Besseling on Jul 9, 2007 16:49:28 GMT -5
GMT + 2 Europe Czech Republic Stredocesky 50 06 00 N 014 26 00 E . PRAGUE . The daylight is spent admiring wrought door handles and vaulted ceilings. Bohemia opens her pedigreed legs with such ease. You would too if you looked this good, eager to please, especially when seen from the Castle hill, with a 600 ml. Pivo in fist: “Greatest Pub In The World.” After dark the cobbles bloat and the streetlights wheeze. Men in fedoras, imagined or otherwise, cobalt trill, replace the tattered Iron Maiden fans and their Rottweilers. Taverns waft odours forth like animals barking for sex. I flare my nostrils for that particular spice of Anise that will lead me to the temple; Absinthe incense. . “We’ve got jazz, we’ve got jazz.” The non-audios/the spirits in the wormwood say. And I listen. And I somnambule my way through the pull and follow. And downstairs from the Mala Strana street-car slashes, a few metres yet a world away a stone slab staircase opens shyly into a grotto. The stockpile is booze, and we know what we drink whenever we come to Prague. I ruck up close to the back - so I can see the people slack and the band plan their attack. It’s a trio tonight. The piano staving the condensation rings from a glass of cognac. The piano comes on as I balance the sugar cube on the slotted spoon. A lip-licking intro oft rehearsed that remains impromptu. I see the double bass anticipate its master’s finger’s graze, that will explore, caress and flick our shapely stand-up hourglass for the next few days. I feel the collective pulse quicken and I dip the sugar cube into the expectant liquid. I let it whet for the first few bars. To get the feel. Heartbeat in four/four. When the brushes clock the snare, I sit the spoon over the rim lips of the glass and watch the green seep into the sweet, a few granules deliquesce like sweat. I can’t hear it, but it must sound like this music. I twirl my Bic between the fingers of my left hand, tapping my toes against the table leg, my green fairy’s dress shimmers as she shakes. The band comes together and I set her on fire. Lay her down over the lip. The flame shimmies a toe tensing stream for the roof, between the air and whatever else there is between us and it and it all. Crescendo means blow her out, extinguish and stir, in time with the bridge time: three/four. Let the band find a soft and deep sediment and the sugar too. Roil, then over the tongue down the throat at the first solo, starry rimmed eyes playfully squint and blur to dance with the candle flicked shadows on the wall. . The small audience seems rapt, taciturn but for finger snaps.
.
|
|
|
PRAGUE
Jul 10, 2007 13:31:35 GMT -5
Post by robertrwoods on Jul 10, 2007 13:31:35 GMT -5
Totally unique structure to me. The shape catches the inherent feeling, the explosion of experience. I see a city totally itself. The difference in rhythm between the outside, rather stoic streets and the quick, wet beat of the clubs at night. Really wonderful to read.
|
|
|
PRAGUE
Jul 15, 2007 0:09:55 GMT -5
Post by Bernard Alain on Jul 15, 2007 0:09:55 GMT -5
these are all great Dave, but I like the opener on this, never been to Prague but I can almost capture the redlight romanesque of all this, just like being there, stunning and much enjoyed.
|
|