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Sat, 09 Jan 1999 17:38:51 -0800
One sweltering afternoon, when Kawasaki Ninjas were hornet-buzzing
across 125th St.
and lemonade peddlers were sloshing 20 gallon drums on wheeled dollies,
I noticed a pack
of whitefolks coming up on my right. There were white people in Harlem,
besides me, of
course--soical workers, construction workers, cops, Europeand and
Japanese tourists
with cameras.
...This particular afternoon there were more than Nikons coming at us.
There was a film
crew--2 or 3 cameras, soundmen w/ headphones & shouldered battery-packs,
the whole
ensemble flowing down the sidewalk in our direction. Its attention was
focused less on
us than on the four young men following just behind, who eased to a stop
and stood
quietly as we played. THEY WERE SKINNY, UNSHAVEN, DRESSED MOSTLY IN
BLACK LEATHER DESPITE THE HEAT; ONE OF THEM WAS WEARING A BOWLER HAT. He
nodded in time. The cameras
homed in on us, then swiveled slowly toward our quartet of fans,
lovingly tracking
their wandering gazes...
This archive was generated by hypermail 2.0b2 on Sat Jan 09 1999 - 13:46:12 PST