 |
About Us
more than worth the price of admission
Aging is the price we pay for experiencing life, the way Time is the resistance to everything happening at the same time, the way water flowing through a pipe or electricity flowing through a wire is affected & slowed down a bit, the water by encountering friction with the pipe's interior surface and the electricity by its encounters with the wire's electrons. I'm sure you don't hear water saying "Pipes suck" or electricity complaining about the energy lost passing through copper wire but I sure hear a lot of people complaining about aging. I posted my new cover photo because it is the oldest picture of Amy Zerner and me, an old school "selfie" taken in one of those arcade photo booths for four quarters back when we first met and I love it.
Who are those people? They're me and Amy minus the experiences we've had since we met in October of 1974 at the filming of a rooftop party scene for what I was told was the first feminist porno movie; its working title was "Up The Girls!" I was playing an Ampeg fret-less electric bass guitar accompanying a woman who played grand piano in an evening dress and a cellist who played for Cat Stevens when he toured, joined by various South American percussionists who were the real deal - if you looked inside their self-made conga drums you still saw the stencil saying "PIGS FEET" from the crates they used, as well as a light bulb rig to keep the skin the right tautness when they played in the cool North American air, which they were doing that October afternoon, all ten of them, seven more than usual, but hey, they'd been told we were playing at the filming of a porno movie so it was all hands on deck (where we can see them!) I remember the first moment I laid eyes on Amy, who had come to be an extra at the behest of my girlfriend at the time. We had grown tired of each other and she'd invited Amy to see if perhaps she'd be interested in me.
Thank God/dess she was interested enough to see me again, double dating with us at a Patty Smith concert at the Roosevelt Hotel that I never saw because Amy's date got claustrophobia in the smallish room outside the big concert room and ran out, leaving Amy fuming. Being the tough NY City girl she was she bolted from the room to walk home up Madison Avenue at 10 PM from 43rd Street to where the Time Warner building is now, Columbus Circle, to the apartment she shared with her dear mother on 60th Street. I'm no fan of leaving one's girlfriend alone to fend for herself but I imitated Amy's date without a second thought. Something inside me (outside me?) told me to leave my date with our mutual friend, who must have thought we were all going crazy, and to run at full speed out the door, never to see my date again of course, and come tearing up Madison Avenue only to have Amy wheel round on me ready to defend herself from this galloping giant whose size 14's must have sounded like an army of mounted cops coming after her. I walked her home and the rest is history and herstory and our stories, our experiences, are more than worth the price of admission, i.e., aging.
|
|
|
  |
|
 |
ShareThis
