I ran into Sara at the bar and I hadn’t seen her in years and she was drinking a green cocktail and called me over and asked me to sit down and she looked wild in some sort of nineteeth century hoop dress affair made from burgundy silk and her afro was all braided up in three tiers like a black hair wedding cake on her head and she was just talking and talking and ordering us more green cocktails and she told me about her new venture in music promotion and how she was travelling all over the world with this sort of Soul Electronica show called, “House Nigger” trying to offend the world into dancing. She said she recorded everything with all sorts of electronic toys and she reached into her hand bag scooped up a stack of high tech and disposable cameras and sound recorders and she dropped them on the table like a pack of cards and then set them up like dominoes and turned everything on and said,” Something interesting better happen soon…. we’re recording.”
I tried to be funny and she got up and danced and then we kissed and then we went back to her place which was filled with doll houses and toy furniture. She litereally had no bed, but a sleeping bag and where the bed should have been was grid of some fifty doll sized beds.
“I like to sleep in a different bed every night,” she said, raising her eyebrows… “Even when I’m home… so I do it in my mind,” and she grabbed her necklace and yanked it and hundred pearls fell to the ground around the sleepping bag.
We had drunken sex, which I was more or less certain she was recording for posterity, or art, or blackmail, which put me slightly off my game and then there were all the pearls digging into my back. Afterwards, she sat around wearing antique underwear affecting a Toulouse Lautrec bordello aesthetic. Sara showed me all the recordings of the Paris “House Nigger” show. It was sort of extraordinary. Some devices would give her a great sound and shitty picture, some were just still pictures, some were just film, some had great video, but blown out sound some were still like a surveillance camera just watching the turntables or a drum and some were moving around the crowd… some attached to members of the crowd and so they were spinning and jumping abstract washes of color with dopplered sound.
She said, “I’ve got to figure out how to put all this together…. It’s better than t.v. but it’s all in pieces.”
The sun came up over the tiny furniture.