Music Heard in a Tight Place (While Wearing Black Cable Knit Tights)

This morning I discovered that Lara and I were writing at the same time in separate cafes in our respective cities--cities which are 2,189 miles apart (I just looked it up). Knowing that we were doing the same important thing at the same time was heartening because I don't see Lara enough--in fact, it's been more than a year now. I spent five hours in a coffee shop today in a tight place, wedged in between two narrow tables, having staked out a nearby outlet. For sustenance, I drank two cups of green tea and ate my way through a plate of bread and butter and then hours after that, went back for an oat scone with no butter. Unfortunately, this place serves nothing but coffee, tea and baked good from this place. Mostly I was revising a story that is coming out this year in a little literary journal. I'll let you know when it does (if you're interested). After five hours of typing, and just a few morsels of food, I was ready to go, and was going to take off eight minutes earlier than I did, but just as I was packing up a live recording of Van Morrison's "Cypress Avenue" came on (after about an hour of Louis Armstrong, who I also love) and I had to settle back into my hard chair and listen, and I tried to listen without crying. Lara, we're going to write ourselves out of our tight places, won't we? (The video above records the exact stunning performance I heard today in the cafe: Fillmore East (in my neighbrhood!), Sept 23, 1970. I hope you take a look.)