Ahh... the slow recoup. Slower than a turn and juicier than a tangerine. This here is the end as promised. The weekend I did not catalogue correctly, where I slept with the cleanest conscience I've had in a long time, and where a little fuel drove it a long way.
Jose's sister lives three blocks away from my parent's house. Through a series of poor directions, crackly cell phone connections, and general bonhomie -- what would've been a forty second swing to pick me up, turned into a half hour ordeal. My fault, my bad, whatever the fuck it is the kids say. Once we resolved that issue, we headed on down to the UM Starbucks for some prep caffeine. Then we jetted on down to the always fabulous Churchill's Hideaway Pub in the Magic City's dynamic and rapidly vanishing Little Haiti neighborhood to soak in, no, to be pummeled by the ultra-violent assault of that two-man machine of hate and sludge, Black Cobra. Miami's own Rafael Martinez and Jason Landrian (collectively ex-16, ex-Cavity, ex-Gammera, ex-Pointe Blank, ex-Dorothea Dix, ex-Acid King, ex-etc...) make such a racket, the "metal" six piece that preceded them came short seven more members to recreate the sheer loudness and craftsmanship that these two motherfuckers generated. Sludge, stoner, metal-blues, hardcore; whatever the fuck you wanna call it -- go out and buy their EP (7" or CD formats) and their brand new full-length, Bestial on At a Loss Records. Engineered by none other than the great Dan Escauriza. Heavy doom to make hangovers and bosses shy away in terror. So good that my old ban on ninja kicks and jumping on people's backs whilst headbanging and pumping my fists and generally spilling my/other's beers all over the place was lifted the second the first hints of feedback came through the amps. Can this energy and you've got a nuclear alternative. My ears still hurt and I wouldn't have it any other way.
Side note: sorry Dan, this ungrateful ninja needed to get the Hell outta there and on to The District, where the ninja turned into a different kind of drunken dance machine. I apologize. Kisses next time.
So to The District we went next for the Saturday Poplife party and the doorman recognized me yet again and I'm beginning to think that maybe I oughtta do something else on Saturdays, like crochet/stitch n' bitch (no disrespect Alisha), write poems, or sleep. Whatever. All I know is that when Black Cobra comes through your town, you need to call in sick the next day. It's fucking good.
Sunday was flip night and I guess we all know how that went... save for C. Rupes' friend Alexis coming onboard with her brother and brother's friend and a delicious conversation in Español between us until things got ruined when one unsavory character made the visual background rounds. But we have no time to toil in unsavoriness, now do we? Not when we turn slowly. Not when all we need is a little fuel. Now we can pick up the week where it belongs...
You will go here. Now. Obey! Shit!
http://www.blackcobra.net/
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