BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

…Geriatric Fetish Dominatrix Hooker.

Yeah, that got your attention, didn’t it? And, no, it’s not just a ploy to get you to read this blog. Well, not entirely, anyway (wink wink, nudge nudge).

So, what am I babbling about?

Well, you see, about a week ago I was in New Orleans to attend, and support, my good friend Dorothy Morrison’s book release for Utterly Wicked: Curses, Hexes, and Other Unsavory Notions. Now, a book release is a big deal. It is a party where the book is first rolled out and made available for purchase, usually a week or so prior to the official “street date” set by the publisher. So, Dorothy arranged for her release party to be in NOLA–in the French Quarter, in fact, at a wonderful store on Dumaine called Esoterica. Mimi, the owner, had her annual soiree in conjunction with it, that way there was a really huge party with Champagne, Caviar, and tons of other food & drink. A host of wonderful folks attended, all decked out in Witchy costumes, from downright scary to, dare I say it, sexy.

This is where the Geriatric Fetish Dominatrix Hooker comes in…

The thing is, Morrison wanted this to be a big deal (which it was) and since the title of the book is Utterly Wicked, well…ummm…Okay, let me break it down-

Morrison, as I have explained before, is OLDER THAN DIRT. I doubt I need to provide the calculation here again, but suffice it to say she is what you’d call Geriatric. So, anyway, she plans out this whole outfit for the release. Imagine if you will, Dorothy Morrison decked out as follows:

Black silk peasant blouse with lace cuffs, black satin boned corset, black leather miniskirt, black fishnet stockings, black Steve Madden boots (ostensibly named “The Sergeant” because they are patterned somewhat after combat boots- but, only in that they are made of both canvas and patent leather, and lace up in the front) with 5 inch stiletto heels, and a black hat with a lace thingamajig hanging down her back.

Yeah…Like I said… Geriatric Fetish Dominatrix Hooker. All she needed was a cat ‘o nine to complete the ensemble.

Anyway, she got herself all decked out in this getup, then pranced through the quarter, a walk spanning about 10 blocks from the St. Louis Hotel down to Mimi’s shop. Horns were honking, there were catcalls, whistles, near collisions from people craning their necks, and even a few disapproving stares from the hotel staff. (I think maybe they thought I’d been keeping a hooker in my room)

I know there are pictures because flashes were going off all night. Hopefully some will get emailed to me so I can show you this getup, because I’m not kidding.

However, geriatric or not, I have to admit that Morrison looked sharp and definitely had it going on. Hell, when she was getting ogled as we walked down the street I just couldn’t help myself- I told all of the panting guys to back off, because I had already paid her and secured her services for the evening.

More to come…

Murv

With the sound of a Basset Hound having its tail pulled really hard.

Okay, not literally. Please allow me to explain…

You see, I cannot carry a tune in a bucket. Even if you put a bead of silicone sealant around the top then slap the lid on. It’s just not one of my talents. I will find a way to spill that bucket full of tune all over the ground within the first two notes of any song.

Of course, this does not keep me from appreciating music, listening to music, and yes, even singing. In the shower. In the car. When listening to the radio at home… Or, even if I just feel like breaking into song. It’s one of those things. We all do it at one time or another. The mood strikes us and out come the notes, off-key, on-key, howling, squeaking, rasping, whatever. It’s just a fact of life.

So… I spent this past weekend in Newark, Ohio at Violet Flame Gifts with Dorothy Morrison, doing that booksigning thing, workshops, etc. Heather (the owner) runs a great shop and really takes care of folks. We were coffeed, fed, pampered, and otherwise treated like royalty. That is the way of things at VFG, and I will go back there every chance I get. This year, Kim and Allen even took me to the John Glenn Museum which was a blast. Even with the whole starter on the van thing (another story entirely)… Anyway, there I go digressing again. The point of this blog is that on the last night of the event, that being Saturday, Heather throws a bash complete with a live band. The band, as always, is The Barstool Prophets— a couple of guys with barstools, guitars, and a ton of talent. And, as usual, they insisted that I come up and sing with them.

Therefore, I suppose this is my public apology to those in attendance who were forced to listen to me bellow off-key through “Turn The Page“, “The Perfect Country and Western Song“, and even an accappella rendition of “The Ballad of Serenity“.

Rumor has it there are pictures out there, complete with some of my friends up there singing with me. Some of the evidence is apparently even on Myspace. I guess I’ll have to go look.

More to come…

Murv