The extravagant day

I found myself in the coffee shop rather than the studio. There is always a 50/50 chance that I might change my mind, or decide that sitting in a coffee shop alone sounds more glamorous than it actually is. This time I made it there. I felt self conscious as I ordered my decaf coffee with soy milk and a seed covered bagel with hummus. I doctored my coffee and it really hit the spot. They are playing "people got to be free" over the speakers at a volume almost too low to really enjoy. I wonder if the muffled sound is a result of the full blast assault on my ears from my recent headphone usage in the studio.

Behind me is a young woman being grilled by two older, better dressed men- this is some sort of job interview- "Yes, I have a plan" she says. "I have to be honest..." Over hearing this kind of talk makes me grateful to not be in the market for a J.O.B. Such forced diction and pomp and circumstance- she needs this job, I can tell. I am sure they already know whether they will hire her or not.

I try to stop listening to the uneasy conversation, and notice that it is pouring down rain, and this makes me happy. I wish I was sitting closer to a window. The music is good at least, Buddy Holly's "Oh Boy" is at a volume I can appreciate. I watch people come and go, leaving behind dirty plates and glasses, the folded newspaper for someone else to read. "Mrs. Robinson" is playing now and I have been here an hour and that is long enough. What will I do with the rest of my day? Where do I go? I am tempted to go to the studio, because that makes the most sense, and is the usual course of action. I am also tempted to just get in the car and drive. I never get in the car and just drive, I am not a fan of driving and didn't learn to drive until I was 31- which is a shameful admission in America.

I walk outside, it has stopped raining. I have a full tank of gas, so I do exactly that, I just drive. I turn up the talking heads cassette in my car and I start to maneuver the streets and I know where I am going but am I sure? No phone calls first, no telling anyone. I even drive with the windows down, the loud roar in my ears along with the music. I am going to visit my parents who live about 45 minutes away in the country along a scenic old highway. It is lush and green, there is no traffic, I am singing and I am happy. I visit with my folks for a few hours, we talk about art, music, local politics, and a lot about their new dog Milo. Nervous that it might start raining again, I decide to head back. I enjoy the music filled drive into town.

This day is alright...

I go home and take my dog for a walk, listening to The Centurions on my headphones. I decide to take my book and head to my favorite pub and have a couple pints and read. The book is getting more intense and reading it in a pub seems fitting. Nick Cave is on the jukebox when I walk in- perfect. The french doors are open to the street, and only a few folks are sharing the place with me. I look at the old street that has been the scene for so many of my memories and I feel hope for this place again. Many times, I feel my town has lost that special something that made me happy to live here, but it is showing it's magic in this moment. I take a few snap shots of the place and continue reading. Suddenly, some friends show up, no phone call- they were just walking by- again evidence of the magic, of the past, of what I used to love about this street and town.

Friday was wonderful.

Today it is pouring buckets, looks like another good day...