Memphis' Beale Street was the heart of black business in the era before the civil rights movement of the 1960s. It was also a nexus of the Memphis blues community. Thanks to Sun records, Elvis, and Stax records, Memphis contributed a unique sound to the American musical palette.
Tonight my cow-orker and I strolled along Beale, shopping for souvenirs and listening to live music. We heard some good music and we heard some shit (karaoke). I finally made it to a Coyote Ugly. It was fun, but there weren't very many people in the house, so there wasn't a lot of energy. Plus, there were a bunch of starched-shirt, button-down dweebs that flat creeped me out. No harm done, and we both made it back safely. It's late, so my bet is that I won't get to the fitness center early tomorrow. If it works out, great. If not I'll just have to have my ass beat like that poor shithead who was dumb enough to go into Coyote Ugly on his birthday. I know those two girls' belts left marks on his ass.
Howlin' Wolf says "hi."
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