09.24.04

There are events more disconcerting, but not as ego gratifying, as having someone ask you to belly dance for their book release party while you're in the middle of a poetry reading.

Went over to Belmont/Hawthorne last evening. Met Binkie and Emilicious at the Bonfire (decorative motif: flames), Treluv joined us a little later. Then we went across the street to Mojo's Cafe. It's the home of the longest-running poetry open mic in Stumptown and is hosted by Emily Riley.

Emily's new book is coming out, and it was she who asked me to shimmy'n'shake. This coming Sunday night, I'll be dancing at the Rabbit Hole in the 2X6', doglegged space in front of a punk rock/spoken word band. It could be very silly.

Hell, bagpipes last week, bands and belly dancer this coming week. Waugh.

Mojo's is comfortable. It's more like someone's living room than a cafe. There are dusty plants on sills; an old TV stuck on a shelf; books and newspapers all over; mis-matched table lamps; an illuminated, plastic, kneeling Mary (or saint, I can't quite remember) with a permanent-markered, Confederate drummer boy, beard next to the cash register; hand-drawn quips and quotes; voodoo cookie men with pretzel penises, filled with rasberry jam so they bleed when you take a bite; and other homey touches.

The building looks as if it was a gas station in an earlier incarnation. One from the 'teens or '20s. Just an odd, little, free-standing, squarish building with room in front and on the side for cars. Now it's got a covered outside seating area on the side, and nothing but asphalt in the front.

I'm considering going down after my math classes on Thursday nights. Not every week, but as the urge takes me.

After the poetry reading ended (with some fine pieces from everyone), we went back over to the Bonfire. Binkie felt peckish, Emilicious "could probably eat something", I was a wee bit snappish, so we got food.

Wow. The eats were a lot better than I expected. I had something called a Peasant Plate--Mexican cuisine-inspired spicy rice, red and black beans, and salsa served with flour tortillas for cheap, cheap, cheap--that was delish. Though what I was thinking of ordering and eating it at midnight...oy. It inspired some vivid (and rather horrid) dreams. It's been almost 12 hours and I'm still burpin' spiciness. And y'know, it's oddly pleasant.

*laugh*

I've got two days to figure out the belly dance drag. Oh boy! Sparkly, noisy, shininess--here I come. Whoop.

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