March 10, 2013: T.Notes

March 10, 2013

March 10, 2013: T.Notes

Soho

In my opinion, the perfect way to end a weekend is a night out at a London jazz-hole. So tonight, against all reason, I stupidly braved the freezing night ( a very bad idea at zero degrees). I wormed my way through the madness of the Soho night scene, turned into a dark alley and welcomed the familiar musty smell of one of the Frith street jazz clubs.

Here is my usual schedule:

I find an empty table at the back of the dimly lighted hall, order a half-filled glass of wine for starters and hold out for two simple expectations:

  1. That there will be an exotic female lead vocal accompanying the band on stage
  2. That someday, a mystery Nigerian girl will enter the club, and get ushered to the empty seat next to me.

I have a curious fondness for contemporary jazz bands, especially those ones with lead female vocals swooning in foreign languages that I do not understand. In my own warped and misguided mind, I think there is something intelligent and very sexy about nodding my head in trance-like state pretending to understand the mind and emotions of exotic jazz music.

I also think that somehow, whilst I am feigning this super intelligence, some random black girl will notice me and wonder about this Nigerian bloke seated in the shadows with seeming multilingual understanding.

There were no exotic lead vocalists tonight, and so far, for all my years of sampling random jazz holes, I am yet to meet my elusive beautiful Nigerian girl who has a similar appreciation for incomprehensible jazz music.

I trudged home at around past nine, to a buzzing phone and urgent email alerts from Miss Kiah demanding my diary for my scheduled 3six5ng slot. So, this is my very quick effort to recount my day. Honestly, there is a lot of witty insight contained in this post — albeit disguised in multilingual jargon. I promise.
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About T.Notes: I spend my hours trailing stock market trends and trust funds across three continents until I fall asleep and slobber saliva all over my computer dashboards. In the brief interludes between all that jargon, I pretend to be an insightful writer/ blogger.