Prescott. Arizona's own little Ashland Oregon. But instead of the Shakespeare festival there's Whiskey Row, a street jam packed with pubs that, I've heard, the cowboys visit on their days off. We made ourselves at home in the art district in a tiny info shop that smelled and looked exactly like the Campbell Club and was inhabited by 5 of the nicest humans and 4 of the best dogs anyone could ask for on Christmas eve.
Here is a sample of our lovely song making!
Between mouthfuls of spicy coconut soup and inexpensive wine we played some songs to our tiny audience. All snuggled together with space heaters, do-it-yourself handbooks, fairy dust (that landed in the wine!), accordians, and guitars it was the coziest christmas eve a person could ask for.
After playing our set the whole group decided to make music together. We started making up songs at about 9:30 and kept it up for five hours. There were cake fights in the kitchen, experiments in playing the saw, rounds of coffee made with dumpstered goat milk by a wonderful person named Nobody, and endless improvised lyrics to endless improvised songs. It was joyful joyful joyful, and at the end of the night Todd unfolded the couch that was so full of pennies, dust, and other unknown things that we all shouted with amazement.
Then Todd made a very nice clean sheet appear out of nowhere and the three of us slept like snuggle bugs all in row in our cocoon sleeping bags.
Having had coffee right before bed I got up once to walk outside and see Prescott at night. The stars were exceptionally bright and closer than usual. Then, I snuck back to my place between Bethany and Stef and went to sleep.
No comments:
Post a Comment