06/06/01 - I'm writing this at the coffeehouse, drinking iced mocha, listening to Bob Marley. It's still warm out, short sleeve warm, but there's a bit of a breeze. It's 9 p.m. It's getting ready to cool off some. I'm sitting inside, in front of the large screen window, plenty of fresh air, no breeze.
I'm reading Chapter 3 of Black Cherry Blues. Mr. P said that there really are guys named Bubba in the South. I'm reading this book because I want to feel the South, remember it. The story is set in Louisiana. There is mention of bayous, dirty rice, New Orleans ... and clouds, tumbling white clouds. See, I knew they were different. I noticed the clouds as soon as I got off the plane in New Orleans. I thought they were billowy, but tumbling is a good way to put it. And, they were very white, illuminatingly so.
There are not many people in the coffeehouse tonight. I wonder why. I finish reading the chapter. The guy who made my coffee drink comes over and tells me I have to leave, he needs to wash the floor. I walk out to the courtyard and wait a few moments. I hear Bob Marley singing ... Get Up Stand Up, Stand Up For Your Rights! I'm thinking about clouds and bayous and humidity. And, perhaps I am thinking about freedom too.
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