... are free
I learned about the band Gram Rabbit when I reviewed their latest CD for Curt Scheiber’s Invisible Hits radio program. When Curt gives me a batch to listen to, there always seems to be one that ends up growing on me and this was the one that stayed in my car’s CD player for repeated rotation. Their inclusion was in conjunction with an invite-only performance coming up at Rumba to which I wrangled an invitation. It was my understanding that a promoter from Cleveland arranged to have a band that he really liked do a free show for his friends at Rumba. Gram Rabbit is from Joshua Tree/L.A. and it was evident why they were known as one of the best from that area. The songs were solid rockers with great vocals and interesting instrumentation. Lead-singer, Jesika von Rabbit was lovely in a strategically revealing black ensemble that contrasted nicely with her shining platinum hair adorned with a spray of black mesh and a miniature top hat attached at a jaunty angle. Ms. Rabbit’s voice had that pure childlike quality that reminded me of another L.A. rocker, Martha Davis of The Motels. Their fan cult known as “The Royal Order of the Rabbits” were identifiable by their bunny ear head gear. The band was throwing the furry white ears out into the audience and I considered competing for a pair because I knew I was heading for a Halloween party later but decided that would be a feeble excuse for a costume. I thanked the generous host for bringing such a great band to my attention and headed out for the party.
Usually, I’m always game for dressing up. I love do-it-yourself costumes. I’ve created a great Hunchback of Notre Dame and a zombie with an axe in my head that I can always use. And I’m known to put on a dress and fishnets at the drop of a hat. However, besides the fact that I wasn’t sure I would have time to stop by the party, Halloween was over a week away so I didn’t feel the inspiration to even don a frock. I wished I had because it was embarrassing to be dressed so uncreatively at a party with so many good costumes. One lovely young woman in particular riveted my attention with a very sexy outfit consisting of not much more than a few scanty items of lingerie and some big punk boots. This annual party always has great dance music and lots of dancers so when my favorite cut from the Plastic Beach CD came on and I found myself partnered up with the attractive punk tart, I was inspired to dance with as much zeal and creative flourish as I could. Later, I noticed that she was engaged in what seemed to be innocent sport with a guy dressed up in a tunic and boxing gloves as the Fighting Nun puppet. However, it soon became apparent that the Fighting Nun may have played a little too rough with his not-so-delicate opponent. She started throwing some serious punches and roundhouse kicks with those big boots. He might have been bravely laughing off these assaults as she forced him out the front door but the deadly serious look on her face made it clear that she had just furiously unleashed a lot of pent up anger. Now, that was scary and I took it as sign that it was time to move on to the next event.
The after-hours party was a good one full of people who had already been partying long and hard. There was a beautiful baby grand piano there for me to play. I did a slow, haunting instrumental version of my wedding song and then joined in on some jamming when others picked up guitars and percussion. Eventually, the crowd thinned out leaving a group of us in the hot tub. I’ve had one at my house for years so I’ve seen my share of hot bubbly fun but this was cinematic. I sat back and watched some really beautiful women take advantage of each other in what was apparently quite a mutually satisfying manner. Some of their male friends joined in but since I had just met most of them, I kept a respectful distance. Even so, the feet of one of the busy young ladies happened to press up against my foot and I pushed back like a high school gym class partner doing isometric exercises. Without any sign of acknowledgement, she obviously had decided to incorporate the forceful resistance she was getting from me into the overall effort in which she was engaged because we held the stalemate for quite a while and even came back to it later. It reminded me of how I would use my hand to push back against baby Raad’s leg kicks in a primitive effort to play a game with him. That seemed like quite a perverse thought at the time but I suppose in the context of the surrounding activity, it was relatively innocent. Having had more than enough voyeuristic pleasure for the evening, I left my sybaritic tubmates to their aquatic devices as the morning dawned.
mark
