From the Seasonally Occupied Territories . . .
More about the weirdness of writing:
In Squatters’ Speakeasy young Mark Churchill has a band, and of course the band has a drummer. Drummers usually sit back in the shadows with their drum sets so until a few months ago I didn’t pay much attention to this drummer. If he showed up on cue, that was enough.
Then Mark and his bandmates were talking about an upcoming jam at Bluesman Luke’s cottage — Luke is Mark’s father and musical mentor — and the drummer said no way was she going: Luke thought “female musician” was an oxymoron and the last time she’d sat in, he ragged on her incessantly for her unconventional appearance. “Hoo boy,” said Dennis the bass player. “Last time you were there I thought you were going to crack his head with your conga.”
Hoo boy indeed. I learned a few things from that exchange. Mark’s drummer…
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