Saw the Lammam brothers play last night—rockin Egyptian/Lebanese pop music, completely nonstop high energy accordion & violin & bass & 2 drummers. There was a woman bellydancing with pink costume & pink hair; an old man got up & started stuffing dollars in her brastraps, then went for the cleavage. Her expression went from bewildered discomfort to “what the #^% is this guy doing, I can’t believe he’s groping me in a restaurant” & she spun away & kept her back to him, kept dancing, as did he, still brandishing the three remaining dollars intended as a minute’s rent for her breasts. About the most out-of-line thing i’ve seen, but i was impressed with the way she handled it.
There was a Turkish woman there, Fatma, a singer who i used to play with for almost 2 years, & she didn’t recognize me at all without my former beard. This keeps happening & i keep loving it. I feel undercover. I’m a secret agent. Perhaps when you next see me i’ll be an old woman, we’ll see dearie.