I was reading Porngirl3’s blog post(De pressed, Deprived, Sullen) about how her playlist had become unsatisfying for her. I suggested she give the Cuban artists of Buena Vista Social Club a listen. Ibrahim Ferrer, Omara Portuondo, and Compay Segundo, just to name three.
I’ve been complaining about the heat, but I’ve done nothing to embrace the heat. Let it soak in. I’m thinking of Kuba Kuba, the corner restaurant in the Fan, noisy, redolent with smells of Cuban food, and a foreign land, compared to my safe, hygienic, suburb.
On the film Ruben Gonzalez plays the piano. He is a jazz pianist in the class of Thelonius Monk. But in truth he was a stand alone unique genius.
These Cuban ballads let me dream of passion and perfume. The air conditioning civilizes the days, but squeezes something out in the process.
I have daydreams of playing dominos, smoking cigars, drinking Cuban coffee, wearing a guayabera shirt, while sweet seductive women watch us as my friend and I play and drink the coffee and smoke the cigars. I know it is silly. What woman is interested in the pastimes of old men, unless they appreciate us for our serene and gentle spirits?
But who knows?