I was having pre-show dinner and drinks with my younger brother on Wednesday. We were seeing Ben Harper at the Opera House. I fell in love with Ben in the 90s, along with Jeff Buckley. They were my soundtrack.
Perched on stools in front of a wood fire pizza oven, we peeled off our jackets and threw back cold Italian beers. We soon noticed that the man tossing the pizzas into the dome inferno had the very same curve to his shoulders. Not only that, his neck was kind of compressed, from peering in i guess.
On the other side of my brother was a lonely looking man. He was eating risotto balls, he had really red hair. I whispered an audible "omigosh" and began to tell a story.
"Don't look around. That red head beside you...i have LOVED him for years. He was part of a really HOT group of grunge buskers in the 90s. They were a classical quartet. He played violin. 1994, Pitt Street Mall, man they were good, they pulled a serious crowd. He was HOT. Actually, he was pale. Pale but Hot. He wore BLUNDSTONE boots, a Nevermind t-shirt and cut off army fatigues. It was before cargo pants took off and you had to get your fatigues from the army disposal store. Proper. It was all about Fudge*paintbox hair dye in those days but his hair already flamed. I threw down loads of my cash into cases but was always too shy to look up as my coins hit the velvet lining. Sometimes they'd play Vivaldi's Concerto in A minor and i would play along with my arms beside me. Pathetic little wrist twitches stored in me thanks to Suzuki Book 4. God i was bad."
My brother looked around.
"He kinda looks...like a struggler now. Like a ranga hobbit."
He was right, the guy looked pale and he kinda had a gut happening. Not quite the poster boy for the cool unkempt look. Just, doughy and unkempt.
Ben Harper played and acoustic banquet well past Midnight. The white and uptight dribbled out early but Ben just kept playing. Incredible.
Perched on stools in front of a wood fire pizza oven, we peeled off our jackets and threw back cold Italian beers. We soon noticed that the man tossing the pizzas into the dome inferno had the very same curve to his shoulders. Not only that, his neck was kind of compressed, from peering in i guess.
On the other side of my brother was a lonely looking man. He was eating risotto balls, he had really red hair. I whispered an audible "omigosh" and began to tell a story.
"Don't look around. That red head beside you...i have LOVED him for years. He was part of a really HOT group of grunge buskers in the 90s. They were a classical quartet. He played violin. 1994, Pitt Street Mall, man they were good, they pulled a serious crowd. He was HOT. Actually, he was pale. Pale but Hot. He wore BLUNDSTONE boots, a Nevermind t-shirt and cut off army fatigues. It was before cargo pants took off and you had to get your fatigues from the army disposal store. Proper. It was all about Fudge*paintbox hair dye in those days but his hair already flamed. I threw down loads of my cash into cases but was always too shy to look up as my coins hit the velvet lining. Sometimes they'd play Vivaldi's Concerto in A minor and i would play along with my arms beside me. Pathetic little wrist twitches stored in me thanks to Suzuki Book 4. God i was bad."
My brother looked around.
"He kinda looks...like a struggler now. Like a ranga hobbit."
He was right, the guy looked pale and he kinda had a gut happening. Not quite the poster boy for the cool unkempt look. Just, doughy and unkempt.
Ben Harper played and acoustic banquet well past Midnight. The white and uptight dribbled out early but Ben just kept playing. Incredible.
