Before I launch into this post about the ex-Jimi Hendrix, I’m going to announce our new washing machine gives me the creeps. A sensor tells the machine how much water to load. Like an eerie robot, the washer does this clicking calculation before it gets down to the actual business of washing. It reminds me of a sci-fi creation that puffs out its mechanical chest and beeps, “I’ll do what I’m programmed to do when I’m damn well ready to do it — and I’m not damn well ready.”
Now that I have that off my chest, I want to know is it just me, or do female witches find Jimi irresistible? Like many others, I was born a little too late to enjoy Hendrix’s magick onstage. My birth date, however, remains inconsequential in terms of my going ape shit over the creativity, guts, technical skill, and imagination Hendrix pumped into his art. Not to mention that man had a cat-like sensuality to him, and his sorcery was — and remains — catnip to some lady witches.
Case in point: At a witch’s meetup after Saturday’s Wicca class, I struck up a conversation with a willowy student named Andrea. I had my hand crafted art journal and didn’t mind showing it off to meetup participants, interested or uninterested. Andrea noticed my experimentation with colors, and I asked, “Are you into art?” Andrea broke out her smart phone and revealed a gorgeous depiction of Hendrix.
“It’s Hendrix!” Oh shit. My eyes widened by an exponent of 10. In my excitement , I showed Andrea’s charcoal art to the teacher. I was working my mouth up to run down a Hendrix’s bio when the teacher said, “I know when he died.”
Let’s put it this way. When musician Lou Reed bullshitted about being a black musician voodoo priest, everyone knew who was the real black musician voudou priest, and the real priest didn’t feel the need to bullshit about it. Hmm. Maybe it was black voudou musician priest, but you get the idea.
Being a generous soul, Andrea agreed to let me have the picture but turned down my offer to compensate her with new charcoal pencils. “That’s sweet, but your reaction to my art was payment enough.”
Feeling a little guilty over the sweet deal, I asked her to accompany me to the art store after the meetup. Not too many artists can pass up the opportunity to go to an art store if they’ve never been to said art hole. Once we were in the hole, I nagged her about allowing me to purchase a thank you gift.
She said, “I like bugs. What if we swapped pictures — I give you my picture of Hendrix, and you draw a picture of a dragonfly and give that to me.”
Sounded like an even sweeter deal.
Okay, so I am having a little trouble with getting the correct proportion of wing size to body, but I still have 3 weeks to nail things down. Oh the people you meet at a witch’s meetup.