Midnight and a sky filled with eyes. Jupiter, Betelgeuse, Sirius, all uninhibited and pulsating, reminders to look beyond petty concerns. Like playing in a listening room filled with patrons too drunk and rowdy for listening. Compositions lost to chatter, leaving in a cloud. Swearing off the career you never chose, only to wake with renewed vigor, unaffected. The curse can take its knocks.
For our anniversary tonight, dinner at Tafia, then music. We’re both curious to hear Jacqui Sutton & The Frontier Jazz Orchestra. How could one not be intrigued by the thought of bluegrass mixed with jazz? I’m from Kentucky, after all. Land of the Blue Grass, grass as soft as sheets. So unlike the ugly weeds that grow in the swamps of Texas (poor St. Augustine would be horrified).