PEOPLE WHO WATCH PEOPLE WATCHING PEOPLE
Nighttime jazzsinging event at the pub.
Lots of noise and folks eating and laughing and talking, waiting for music to begin, then hoping it will end soon so that eating and laughing and talking can continue.
The room is filled with clanking glasses and cubes and pftt opening fizzbottles and prowlers casting glances around the bar at other prowlers, and melancholy drinkers hunched over their fluids, and expectant fans waiting brighteyed for the next performance, and notetakers watching the people who are watching the people who are being watched.
The best choreography to watch is the unconsciously synchronized movement of the crowd as it wanders bumpercar-fashion around the spaces.
Everybody makes everybody else, if only in mind and fantasy.
These sensual ink-and-paper words will be translated into electrical impulses on cold screens for later publishing.
The jazz moveable feast/moveable fast depends upon the moon and the tide and the hormones.
The youth inside each of us disregards the wrinkling exterior.
We just move with and against gravity till sleeptime insomniatime encroaches
(c) Jim Reed 2010 A.D.