As anyone who is anyone [& who has read anything anywhere about me over the not so recent past] knows, the person w/ whom I live is a drummer. Semi-problematic, true, but in ways unusual for the profession [& I would know]. Impossible, yes, but one makes choices based on all sorts of criteria, some, in my case, that might elude those kayaking over the more mainstreams among us. True, this is my life. However: False, I think, that these are rhinestone BONGO drums. Bongo drums are paired & linked [just like so many of us sad persons]. These seem to be more conga, more Lucy, more 40s, less Beat [beatnik to the younger semi-cognoscenti]. I dunno. Maybe someone else spousally attached to someone more into the field of Latin percussion would appreciate them more than do I. Or someone enchanted w/ Ricky & his Babalu Boychiks [another fifties appending affectation]. More Xavier, Vegas & Charo than Ginsberg & the determined unwashed. Cool, tho, in their way.
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