oxford, england part 4

last we spoke, i was pissed off.
turns out - it was a combination of things
coldness being a serious factor.

after typing out some hate mail,
jive and i made our way to town
with a hand drawn map from our favorite
brown lizard, steve larkin.

he's cool. he has this dance that he does on stage
so hilarious. his joints hits the off beats of the song
making him look quite the maniac. its diabolical

so we eat at kfc - 4 pounds
thank god. i have something in my stomach besides
the meds for my freekn toothache (which if you are
wondering is still very much hammering in my head).
after we are done, and still shivering, i talk jive
into seating at a cafe so i can down some coffee (s)

he agrees. we find door 72 which is real plush with
neo soul and wood everywhere. music is brilliant
(damn, ive been over here too long already) and i
take two americanos clean up with cream and crazy
sugar and jive nurses a peppermint tea.

i dont do peppermint. but we sit there, for a while
because we have atleast an hour and a half til the show
and we talk about everything. from the future of
jam on it -- to other things.

before we know it, its time to go - so i rush to the
restroom before we take that walk up the road (not block
though they are just the same in difference) and we step to it.

make it to the zodiac - its huge. they have just finished setting up
and things are looking nice. the crowd filters in
within the hour and people plop their nice dresses on the
dirty black floor (its a huge rave club - still nice, but the
floor, son?)and await the beginning of the evening.

we rock out. jive is damn near falling asleep.
hell i have enough espresso in my system to stay awake
for 10 more hours. im nice! we watch the slam, which turns
into something unusual. there was a cat that was actually
pretty good, and somehow he timed over? which i dont believe,
cause kats got up there with 2 minute disserations and still
didnt time out. so with that his 27.1 became a 26.1 and the winner
a sista (very nice i must add) rocks a poem that is definitely
subpar to the abovementioned and she walks away with a 28 something.

jive and i argue about affirmative action and i agree with him
on this one. unfortunately, i dont think she won on her merit -
but because they felt bad. "the only black woman," hell "black person
in a slam - so she must win". no matter. she was gracious, as well
as the dude that i thought should've won. and it was a good night overall.

afterwards, we rocked another set - which i cut totally short
cause it was a long night...dammit and jive closed the bil
before we headed to the kebab (prounounced KEY BABE) and steve,
the man of the oxford, picked up the tab like the gentleman he is.

we headed back to his crib (which is a damn MANSION. and im am
not exagerrating) which has so many rooms that we kept getting
lost. they also have a detached HUMAN size dollhouse built for
the owners doll house collection. ?? wha... exactly. they have a
which is generated by fire -- its crazy natural. ahem, or as natural
as natural can be in this situation.

they have hammocks and wood surrounding everything - very much a scary movie
setting. so jive and i knew to run separate ways if we heard the killer
in the bushes. cause you know what happens to the black couple in
the movies...

within the hour, we finish our kebabs and call a taxi before
hugging steve and saying farewell. we head to the coach station.
buses leave every hour and we wanted to make it back before our
host left for work the next morning. overall: gangsta nite. tiring
but gangsta, nonetheless.

next stop: london/brixton