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The subject line is from Francis Cabrel's L'encre de tes yeux, which just popped into my head.
In France, whole arenafuls of fans know the lyrics to this and other Cabrel classics by heart. I think of people on this side of the planet singing along to James Taylor and the like. It's disconcerting and wonderful how someone so embedded in the musical culture of a country just seven time zones away is so
Then again, I had no idea he had performed in Chicago in March 2014. How did I miss that? ... oh, yeah. That was the winter after the BYM's encounter with a Dodge Journey. I was a little preoccupied. Then again, I don't even pretend to keep tabs on who-all is playing wherever on any given night in Nashville. That said, I have been to Third and Lindsley on at least two Wednesday nights. Wooten Brothers, y'all, with Louis Winfield twirling his sticks without missing a beat.
I went for a walk earlier tonight. On the way to the library, I passed a couple singing riffs to each other as they bustled toward their destination. They weren't quite in sync and didn't sound like session folk, but in this town you never know. Two streets over, the bars were crowded and I could hear what sounded like a live band from one storefront.
On the way back, I noticed a bus stop where someone had crammed a beer can within a brown paper bag into the back seam of a bench. That wasn't surprising, but what about the thin pastel ribbons still looped around a couple of the bench's legs and one of its arms? Was there a birthday with balloons, or a bored child, or ...?
So many mysteries within a mile of my mint patch.
[The prompt: 5 - planets. The challenge: http://upperrubberboot.tumblr.com/post/123904555213. The other book in the photograph is a collection of science fiction poetry. ]
In France, whole arenafuls of fans know the lyrics to this and other Cabrel classics by heart. I think of people on this side of the planet singing along to James Taylor and the like. It's disconcerting and wonderful how someone so embedded in the musical culture of a country just seven time zones away is so
Then again, I had no idea he had performed in Chicago in March 2014. How did I miss that? ... oh, yeah. That was the winter after the BYM's encounter with a Dodge Journey. I was a little preoccupied. Then again, I don't even pretend to keep tabs on who-all is playing wherever on any given night in Nashville. That said, I have been to Third and Lindsley on at least two Wednesday nights. Wooten Brothers, y'all, with Louis Winfield twirling his sticks without missing a beat.
I went for a walk earlier tonight. On the way to the library, I passed a couple singing riffs to each other as they bustled toward their destination. They weren't quite in sync and didn't sound like session folk, but in this town you never know. Two streets over, the bars were crowded and I could hear what sounded like a live band from one storefront.
On the way back, I noticed a bus stop where someone had crammed a beer can within a brown paper bag into the back seam of a bench. That wasn't surprising, but what about the thin pastel ribbons still looped around a couple of the bench's legs and one of its arms? Was there a birthday with balloons, or a bored child, or ...?
So many mysteries within a mile of my mint patch.
[The prompt: 5 - planets. The challenge: http://upperrubberboot.tumblr.com/post/123904555213. The other book in the photograph is a collection of science fiction poetry. ]
