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Before I can even consider starting an essay, I have to empty my mind of its monkey tendencies. How far back do I have to go in order to tell a story? And do I have to tell it chronologically, or can I start just anywhere and then insert the background later? Well, it isn't so much of a story that I need to agonize over this.
I'll admit that maybe I had overdone things the day before: I walked to the Village for tai chi, walked home, walked to the Junction Market on Dundas West, walked to Honest Weight for lunch, then walked back to Sweet Potato, the organic market, for whatever we hadn't been able to find at the farmers' market, and walked home carrying produce. All this in the heat of the day.
So on Sunday I felt terrible. I hung out two loads of washing and then, by afternoon, the very idea of unpinning those clothes and folding them and carrying them upstairs made me tired. Not to mention remaking the bed.
But we had talked about going to see Roberta Hunt at the Rex. On the second Sunday of the month she plays there at 3:30, which is early enough even for us. So, although I was daunted by the thought of two subway trips to get to the Rex, we went. I like Roberta Hunt.
And I was right to go. Because I've lost interest in most music, I didn't expect to feel much. But Roberta's lively and vigorous blues piano just energized me. She had her whole group with her: Alison Young on alto and tenor sax, the trombone player whose smile reminds me of my nephew Jesse, and the two old guys on bass and drums.
You forget what authentic music is like. Here are classic blues tunes played with sheer joy! The connections among the players is phenomenal to watch, as they follow each other through the various solo turns. It's the same joy I get watching the interplay among string quartet members.
By the end I'd forgotten that I was tired and cranky. I'd forgotten that I'd worn myself out by doing too much. Roberta Hunt, with her irresistible honky-tonk joy, was a tonic. I recommend her.
Does this make me an optimist or a pessimist? A false dichotomy, surely, at least for someone as Protean (read: volatile) as I am. The more things change, the more they change, is what I have discovered. Given that change is the only constant, expecting change is the only way to stay ahead of its sledgehammer.
Musings blog: http://www.scenesfromthejourney.blogspot.com
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