Monday, January 26, 2009

Thought I'd have learned.




1:21 AM

It really is too late to be typing any of this. For all the thousand creative impulses that surge through my veins and try to convince my drooped eyelids otherwise, that fact remains. And, were I to adhere to reason alone, I’d prolly not have trekked out through the falling snow tonight in the name of curiosity and local musicians promising new levels of intimacy. Maybe I’d have even worn a jacket versus the sweater of a cardigan I went with instead, gathering snowflakes on top of snowflakes all across my chest like temporary badges of honor.

Instead, I walked those few blocks. I parted with my five dollars. I made it to my destination just in time and a little bit wet. I sat for one perfect hour, listening to the likes of Brinton Jones (singer of the The Devil Whale) and Jay Henderson (owner of that golden voice belonging to Band of Annuals) with maybe 20 others. I mean, talk about your winter soundtracks. It wasn’t open mic night by any means. It was good, solid music by what sounded like some world-weary singsongsangers. Sat close enough to Jay that it felt like I could have sat on his lap … too close for photos even. It was almost uncomfortable how close I actually was, as he let loose some new originals (one he’d even written that very same day), a George Jones cover and a pitch-perfect rendition of “Something True” by that aforementioned band he usually fronts.

That’s nice. That’s real nice. They both ought to do this sort of thing more often. I may not live in a reality where I get to enjoy being tucked in at night, but this? These songs and walking through the pristine snow, cerunching all the way? This came pretty close to that.

The unmistakable sounds of the working snowplows are practically scraping in unison now. It’s enough to send one like me headfirst into my nightdreams. And so I listen. And so I go.

1 comment:

heather said...

it was a nice tuck-in - warmth amidst the white icy snow.