Pixie playing her lamp, taken from W-S Burn's myspace
Last weekend, I left camp on my night/day off for a tiny trip to Winston-Salem. I met up with friends Rachael, Ariella, Nate and Tim (those driving from College Park, MD) at friend Christian's apartment (the boy's all grown up now and writing for a hot newspaper downtown). After trashing the apartment with our sleeping bags and polluting the stark white walls with ricochets of laughter, a few of us went to travel the nighttime streets. We were most interested in getting a consultation at the 24/7 fitness center ("Rush") because the consultation desks could be seen from Christian's window. But before any of that could happen, we discovered a Japanese water/rock garden next-door to the North Carolina School of the Arts.
While sitting there and egging Nate on to jump 8 steps at once without falling and cracking his skull, we suddenly turned our heads at the sound of crunked voices. The voices were of a woman and a man in their late twenties [one a fiery, curly redhead and the other a lanky, sexy man (with ponytail) from Maine, respectively]. The redhead woman swooped around the corner and asked if we were in a band ('cause I guess four trespassing youths in revolt seated side-by-side at 3 in the morn constitutes that question). We said "No" with a little hesitation ('cause Rachael and I once had a band practice in her garage for our 11th grade band named Veritas). Then I asked, "Are you in a band?" She sprightly said that she was and requested to sing for us. I told her to sing her favorite song and that's when the night really began.
For the next 6 long minutes, Pixie (that was her real name) sang an original composition from her band. It was a mixture of fairy noises and whale sounds. In other words, her voice was beautiful but a little inhibited by her level of intoxication (especially when she brought the beer bottle to her lips mid-song sentence). Rachael and I thought the song had ended at least 5 times during the 6 minutes (have you ever clapped before a song was finished?). Anyway, at the end, we applauded Pixie and she told us that it was better in person; Not only was she the front-woman/singer, but she was also the player of a fabulous lamp instrument pictured above & below:
taken from here
Pixie proceeded to entertain by talking about the photon belt and the nano virus that the government was going to send through the tap water (with its harmful fluoride contents)*. She also briefly, and bitterly, ranted about how people shouldn't have to have a baby if they didn't want to. Therefore, her solution for any individual wanting to destroy a baby inside of them was to sit in a sauna ("nothing can stay alive in that heat"). She left before I could tell her that tap water was used in those ever-so-helpful saunas.
She also talked a lot about her shoes. They had so much rubber, she said, that her footsteps could not be heard through the inches of rubber and pleather and manufactured badness. Pixie warned us not to remove ourselves too far from Mother Nature, suggesting that naked naps in the grass and growing gardens (filled with dark, leafy greens) in order to be self-sufficient were the best stress-relievers from fast-paced quotidian troubles. The sexy man with the ponytail told me and Rachael that we were very pretty and used the word "homeboy" or "homeboys" to refer to his friend or friends. It was a night to be remembered.
*She's right, you know. Fluoride may whiten your teeth or whatever, but I've heard rumors of it worsening your enamel and brittling your teeth instead (which is why I've been off fluoride toothpaste for months). I'm currently using this stuff.
