Memoir of a Writer Interrupted

A sheltered reclusive that metamorphosized into an intelligent, talented, purposed light that shines on people standing unmoved on life's journey...an overanalytical ball of energy that forgets intelligence, talent and purpose after putting my flaws under a micrscope and watching everyone but myself.

Thursday, April 06, 2006

the lucky Lounge

The smell of old sweat and spilled rum greeted my friend and I as we entered the lounge. Alcoholics and music lovers of every race and age crowded the popular bar and small dance floor. Some stumbled around, jerking their bodies and slurring loud comments. Others concentrated on the soothing notes the saxophone belted out above the noise. I scrunched my nose up at my friend when one lady pushed against me as she spun and rocked in circles with her hands raised and eyes closed.

The energy of the place strangled me.

In front of me was creativity at its best: a short guy from France, with stringy hair and a tight shirt that read “Paris,” who tickled a keyboard, a 6 foot 9 lightening bolt who shouted knowledge at the microphone as he rocked back and forth in his flip flops, a reserved poet who mumbled his opinions during instrument breakdowns and hid behind his kango hat the rest of the time, a guy who kept the rhythm by beating morris codes on the snares and symbols, two crazy cats who used their trumpets to blare out random scats as fast as their fingers would allow, an older guy who carried on a deep conversation with his bass guitar, a cocky guy who was thrilled by the reaction women had after hearing his soothing saxaphone notes, and a perfectionist who ran his fingers across every key on his keyboard while bobbing his head to the sound around him and checking his cell phone. My friend and I were there to see the perfectionist....

© Miss Brandy



The Interrupted Artist Speaks displays EXCERPTS of the poetry, works of art or stories I have written. All of these works are original and inspired by God and the creativity within me. If you see phrases that fade off like this….. this means a part of the poem was deleted. Some people take pride in stealing other peoples works and claiming it as their own. For this reason, I won’t publish the entire work. I have a copyright for all excerpts and poems – so if you are one of those people that steals others words– just know that if you use my work, you will not get away. God has given us all enough creativity so that we don’t have to steal others.

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