Dinner with a Celebrity

I've never been out on the town with a celebrity. Until now. I won't call it a date, cause really, we were just chillin like two villains. And, I can't tell you who dude is, but he is a rather well known jazz musician - and that is all I will disclose - I'm not trying to be like 'oh, I went on a date with suchandsuch - I'm not the bragging type! (AND, for those with the active imaginations, its not Mr. Man or anyone from his band. Although Mr. Willie Jones is hella cool, we hung in L.A.)

Okay, so Mr. Hep Cat and I decided to take in a fading summer evening downtown. We had dinner at Kin Khao, a restaurant I've heard great things about but never got around to checking out. Kin Khao is this hip little Thai joint with lots of young and trendy folks, nice decor and cool vibes, etc. I got on my Enzo Angliolini's so I'm pretty fly myself, lol! We sit and eat. He looked so handsome. Dressed for the oassion, he wore a suit and a hat for goodness sake, y'all. Ladies, you know. Folks are looking our way, no, excuse me, his way. One middle aged man comes over and gives my dude a pat on the back and a nice to meet you. I'm surprised.

I'm in awe with Mr. Jazzman, anyway. I'm always quick to admire someone. (Maybe I shouldn't let him know, guys seem to be turned off when you are actually feeling them, but that's another story.) He reminds me of my good friend Rahsaan from the Jazz Institute of Chicago. Mr. Jazzman is so young. He's just a few years older than I and has internalized this immense knowledge of jazz and black music. He is such the jazz musician in that his his thoughts are filtered through jazz theories on America, Blackness and preservation. I feel proud of him. Our conversations make me feel well traveled. I didn'ttell him that I just got his second album (my favorite) this summer at Amoeba Records in San Francisco.

Jazzman questions me all night. He is so interested in what I think about music. He's such the jazz musician that he wants to hear me describe the sonic landscape of the music I love. I told him about the multilayered stages of my love for Ramsey Lewis' Sun goddess. I told him about Miles Davis' All Blues and how it makes me feel. What John Coltrane's A Love Supreme means to me Islamically. I told him that Roy Hargrove's Liquid Streets sounds like a silk gown slipping off my dewy skin. I told him that what Fela was doing was jazz uninterrupted. The Qunicy Jones and Rod Temperton partnership; Wynton Marsalis' Mademoiselle d'Gascony and Sunflowers; George Benson; Culture Club. There was so much to describe. It took me back in time to the 80s. I remember dancing to D Train and Change when Luther Vandross sang lead.

I ask him to take me to his city of birth, meaning tell me about it. The Big Easy. He wanted to know about New York. I have to admit that after all the years as a dancer, I am still in transition in knowing New York as a writer, seeing it as a literary city. For many years the streets of Manhattan represented the stepping stones of Ailey and Forces of Nature, Limon and Dunham. I understood Times Square as a center for performance art. For me, West 66th street still sounds like Babatunde Olatunji and Irving Berlin. Everyday as I entered my high school I was reminded of Donny Hathaway and his suicide, his building was always in view. I was used to seeing Judith Jamison on Amsterdam Avenue. Gary Deloatch and Ulysses Dove still hold tremendous spaces in my heart. I demanded that he find a way to see Bill T. Jones Fever Swamp, a f*cking amazing piece!

Oh, my phone is ringing...Be right back!