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I visited Beale Street three times on my recent trip to Memphis. The first was in broad daylight, around 3 pm on a Thursday afternoon. There was already music blaring, and a drunken boor bellowed "Where ya from?" at me from his sidewalk seat (and then laughed with his friends as if he had said something funny). But there was also the pleasure of winter sunshine on old walls...
...and watching an artist with her paints:
[I'll post about the other two visits some other time. In the meantime, say hi to the Hugs Bison. :-) ]
[Also, I am 8/8 in predicting the WTA quarterfinalists at Indian Wells. I'm going to revel in this moment, since the only sure thing about my ATP bracket is that it's going to be trashed one way or another after tonight.]
...and watching an artist with her paints:
[I'll post about the other two visits some other time. In the meantime, say hi to the Hugs Bison. :-) ]
[Also, I am 8/8 in predicting the WTA quarterfinalists at Indian Wells. I'm going to revel in this moment, since the only sure thing about my ATP bracket is that it's going to be trashed one way or another after tonight.]
