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| Dream A Little Dream ... |
12/28/01 - Friday night, and back at the coffee house ... with music, and I’m alone. Can you believe it? Don’t know what happened to My Gentleman. Just wanted to be by himself I guess. I think maybe I did too, I think so. The music is really cool. This performer has his Yamaha strung up by little bungie cords to foot pedals that he works adroitly with his tootsies, all the while strumming his guitar and singing along, makes like a whole band! Good thing I’m drinking a mocha and not wine, I’d be up and dancing in that case, alone, looking like a goof ball. Oh well. That’s why I’m drinking mochas. The “man show’s” happening a bit tonight, even in the rain, never fails. Mr. Music just gave me a little demo on how the Yamaha works. I like the cymbals. He asks me to stick around for the next set, that is if I don’t have somewhere else to go. LOL. Oh yea, I got the whole night planned, next stop heavy metal at the biker bar ... Gees. OK, here’s a Hispanic guy ordering hot chocolates for his three sons. Watch out, shit, just missed me. I never cry over spilt milk, or chocolate either. I walk outside while they mop up. Can’t resist ... “those three yours?,” I ask. “Yep.” I laugh. “Lucky you, I have four.” Ut oh, I’ve started something. Within minutes I’ve gotten the low down on this guy’s work, upbringing, and musical tastes. He grew up not far from where I did, 46 years old, went to Winterland a lot in the days. Thinks he remembers seeing me there once. LOL. Friendly guy. I didn’t have to say a word, he talked for both of us. I did a lot of smiling though. My Old Friend commented recently that there are a lot of fucked up people out there. I don’t know, I’m thinking our experiences have been different. I’ve run into nothing but nice, not always normal, sometimes on the weird side ... But always nice. Senior Friendly gathers his brood, gives me a warm handshake and wishes me a happy new year. Now Mr. Music is trying to impress me ... He brings out his harmonica. Actually, he’s pretty good. Not bad at all. He talks to me over the mike between songs. I’m used to this, I’m a friendly sort. I think it relaxes them to have someone non-threatening to focus on. That makes these performers MY groupies in a way. I come in to write. They accompany my writing. Mr. Music finds out I like bluegrass, dedicates the next one to me. Sweet! Very cool. Another highly enjoyable and spontaneous evening, couldn’t have planned it better! As I leave I hear Mr. Music call “stay.” I don’t turn around. He says come back tomorrow night. Maybe I will, but if I do, I’ll bring a friend. I’m nobody’s groupie. |