bluishorange

things i was thinking about while listening to live jazz upstairs at helios, which i didn’t really want to do but did anyway because that’s what everyone else was doing, and i figured, hey, why not try to do more new stuff i’ve never done before, right?

right.

this drink is really strong.  too strong.  what’s wrong with me that i can’t even drink it?

i always see people i know at these kinds of things, but nobody i know is here, not even that girl i always see that i think i know but don’t, it’s just that i always see her.

god, this music is really good.  i bet andy would like to see this.

it’s sort of interesting how, even though none of us are dating each other, we’ve split off into these pseudo-couples.  david’s sitting with josie, martha’s over there with pete, and i haven’t talked to anyone but phil since i got here.  the outside observer probably thinks this is a triple-date.

i wish we’d stayed downstairs and sat outside by the fountain.  i never get to see these people; it would have been nice to be able to talk with them instead of just watching them sip drinks and clap when there’s a trumpet solo.

that trumpet guy rules, though.

these musicians all have day jobs, don’t they?  they go to bed early on sunday nights to make sure they get enough sleep so they can stay up monday nights to play.  then tuesdays they don’t go out at all; they’re too tired.  look at them, they’re not even drinking any beer.  this is so much different from rock shows where everyone is drinking beer after beer and ashing their cigarettes into an upturned cymbal.  is that true of all jazz bands?  are they all clean-living and stuff?

i guess they’re not.  phil just turned to me and said, “i think that saxophone player’s on something.”

josie’s really pretty.  is she falling asleep?  i wonder what she’s thinking about.  look at us, these six universes of thought and impression and experience and even a thing so small as josie’s jack and coke is a thing so large as to potentially relate to entire phases of her life, like the small blue streak on martha’s converse lowtop or that spidery ring that phil wears.

what is that ring for, anyway?

after that, i went home.

“these days, clarissa believes, you measure people first by their kindness and their capacity for devotion.  you get tired, sometimes, of wit and intellect; everybody’s little display of genius.”  (18)