A couple of nights ago I played a few songs at an open mic night in town. I sang
Bob Dylan - Man in Me
Bonnie Prince Billy - Master and Everyone
Beatles - Across the Universe
Break.
Then, Dylan's Blowing in the Wind
Radiohead's Fake Plastic Trees.
So, a nice spread of cult classics, popular favourites and obscure discovery.
Afterwards we went and partied at the guesthouse of some deeply eligible American girls. Many whiskys consumed and I made friends with an English Tantra expert with a motorbike and a good beard. The good beard was a nice man. Also a Jesus impersonator - obligatory beard. Plus a Tibetan hippy with a good voice.
Oh, and two foxy American girls who were very fond of dancing around the room. I understand American comedies now. When American girls get drunk, like Kirsten Dunst, they all like to prance around a bedroom provocatively.
Later they were talking about how they had studied 'Ayurdervic Medicine'. This is a code word for "I've just been learning massage and by Shiva I need some practice."
I didn't get a massage. But I know where they live…
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