THE OMO MISHA TIMES
Okay. Okay. My mouth is soooooo big
that I decided to start a newsletter. This appeals largely
to my whimsical side (at least today, anyway), so don’t
expect to find anything terribly deep here. I don’t
know if I will be sending it out with any regularity….just
whenever I feel like it. In other words, don’t worry
– you won’t be getting it everyday or anything
If you have events and things you would
like for me to post, please send them to me at email@example.com.
Please note, however, that I will not be posting anything
unless I find it to be worthwhile and endorse it personally.
So…..if you’re doing a party at club Shake-Yo-Stankin’,
I will not be posting it unless I have been to the party and
found the Stank Shakin’ to be all that.
If you would like for me to add anyone
to the newsletter mailings, please send me their e-mail addresses
– the addresses will not be forwarded anywhere, or used
for anything else. If you would like to unsubscribe, also
e-mail me at the same address. I’d like to know what
you think about this. Well…..maybe I wouldn’t.
Oh well….This is just the beginning
of something that could turn out to be who knows what. Life
is just full of surprises, isn’t it?
P.S. – I hope you can view this
in its full graphic content. If not, you may need to open
(find the question at the end of this newsletter
A couple of years ago, I was at Izzy Bar on 1st Avenue, in
the East Village. There was a performance. It was a crowded
Saturday night, and for the life of me, I cannot remember
who was playing.
If you’ve been there before,
you know that there is a bench that lines one corner of the
downstairs room. It is like a cave and on a busy night, it
is crammed with people – loud, drinking, smoking people,
packed on the bench and at surrounding tables. I was there,
hanging out with a friend, Freedome. Not drinking or smoking,
by the way. (And, I was not with Freedome…just bumped
into him at the club.) We struck up conversation with the
group of people sitting just next to us (well, on top of us)
on the bench. One of the guys pulled out a deck of cards and
began to do some really corny card tricks. “This is
cute,” I thought. Each trick got a little more complex
than the last though, and after a few of them I started to
think, “…wait a minute. This guy is no joke.”
There were a few onlookers and after several of his tricks,
I noticed that Freedome was nowhere to be found. I would later
learn that he - a big, burly, bearded guy - got the heebie-geebies
after witnessing the face of a card change right before his
very eyes….less than an arm’s distance away. He
was scared out of his wits and did not want to see anymore.
The card trick guy did a number of
really amazing things. My memory is fuzzy by now, and I cannot
recall them specifically. The most memorable though, was the
one that scared Freedome away: We had guessed a card number,
and he pulled out a card but it was the wrong one. It was
the first time he had faltered since his tricks began, so
everyone was happy – we thought we had him. “Oh!
Wait a minute,” he said, then he took his cigarette
out of his mouth, blew smoke on the card, and it changed to
reveal the number we had guessed. I swear this happened, and
he was sitting right in front of me, our knees practically
touching. I was blinking and rubbing my eyes in disbelief.
After all was said and done and his
audience had dispersed, he told me he wanted to try something
new. He said he had never done it before and didn’t
know if it would work. He wanted to know if I would participate.
“Sure.” He asked me to tell him one thing about
myself – one thing that would most fully describe who
I am. That was easy. “I am creative,” I told him.
Then he asked me to simply think of a card. “Okay,”
so I thought of a 9 of spades or something, and gave him a
cue to proceed. At that moment time stood still: This is the
part in the movie where the frame freezes. Nothing is moving
but the main character…in slow motion. His sounds are
amplified against the silence, and you know, something bad
is about to happen…..
Finally, amid my anticipation (all this took about 30 seconds,
by the way) he pulled just one card out of the deck. He did
not look at it. He simply faced it towards me. “Is this
the card you were thinking of?” he asked shyly, never
averting from my gaze. He needed only observe my mouth hitting
the floor to know the answer to that question. “Yes.”
It was the 9 of spades!
He was ecstatic, jumped up and down,
I thought he was going to kiss me. He went on about how he
had tried but had never been able to do that before. He thanked
me profusely, and then sobered up, took my hands in his, looked
me dead in the eyes and stated with wonder, “….Wow.
You really are creative!” as if the validity of my statement
had determined the outcome of that trick. He lit another cigarette,
let out a big sigh, and disappeared into a puff of smoke.
Freedome returned and I told him what had happened. He said,
“See. That’s why I left.”
The magician’s name was Derek
Hughes. I’m going to go clean up my room now, so I can
find his phone number. Has anybody seen this guy?
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