A late night in the North East quadrant of the city, with song and drama, as per long standing weekly custom. The neighborhood has "grown". Pot smoking dude at the bar had a fight with a large black woman over Remy, then sang a karaoke tune from Hong Kong very badly. Michael, Fei Chai (fatty) and the titty groper came in eventually, followed by three blondes.
I don't think Jenny 姑媽 enjoyed the clientele. Too many slags.
Not enough singing in Mandarin.
I do not sing.
The titty groper would make a great drag performer, all basso profundo on female torch singer songs. Karaoke can be good (Chinese nightclub stars, elderly drag queens doing show tunes) or horrendously awful (white techno-yups singing Abba or The Eagles). So it's educational. Sometimes painfully so. Last night we got Ni Zenma Shuo (你怎麼說) and Yue'r hsiang ning mung (月兒像檸檬), both of which are discordant when men sing.
The English was pablum crap by blonde slags.
When I came back to my street, it was to hear a gruff voice call someone a "f*cking Jew, a f&cking faggot, a f%cking n*gg&ah, a f$cking whore". Ya know, some of those things may be mutually exclusive....... can you please make up your f#cking mind?
I think the bum was addressing two young ladies. So I am baffled. They both seemed very white and yuppie.
The evening was devoid of weltschmerz and existenzangst.
Those would've required introspection.
The "Pipe for Watching Rats in Spofford Alley" was loaded up once I got off the bus. In the past I would have spent half an hour listening to Cantonese opera practice outside the basement (知音妙韻) on Waverly near Mr. Jiu's, but that has not been part of the programme for nearly a year. And on rainy nights especially one wishes to stroll through the quiet neighborhood before ending up on Grant Avenue, carefully stepping around sleepers under the overhangs. In this city, cardboard is bedding material. It's what makes America Great Again. Precisely like songs by blonde slags.
Episodes of Women Generals of the Yang Family.
楊家府世代忠勇通俗演義。
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