i just came home early from a club because a bar tender spilt my drink in my lap
This club, mind you, zanzibar, is the peace, hippy meca of new age santa monica dousche bags and nigerian world music. I felt chill watching the old civil rights videos being played ona brick wall above the dance floor. I felt like I had seen a change of hands in the world, with this obamamania sweeping the country

I yelled over the reggae music "makers mark neat" so she could make me another and she looked at me with a "it was your fault asshole" kinda look. I smiled and asked for her name "Cat.. and don't you forget it" she said. I asked if she knew my name? She said nothing and I left. I talked to the bouncers, got the managers name, her hair color, they told me the color of her blouse. I went back in and found her taking money from people coming in and stamping peoples hands. She looked like a single mother who had just returned from an ashram in india. I told her and I can't believe I said this...That I needed to "cut out" to another show and I asked if she remembered me from KCRW, she said yes, told me to wait. I told her I was going outside, friends were upset, I covered this already. She came running out with a t-shirt, apologizing, something about email and guest lists, home know, Im wearing a brown shirt that says "afro funk" the name of the club. Im thinking about the nigerian singer Im missing, about how this city looks out for me, for anyone, they are all the same, whores to convicts, all are running scared from something, any one. Santa Monica is fun as hell when it comes to this becuase the someones are trying so hard to like no one while the ...well, you get it. True no ones can come of like some ones if they know this. I just dont like the idea of a bikini clad bar tender losing her job because of the no one any one law of this city, not in this economy, but the shirt fits perfect