Coffee and Cigarettes

There isn't much time as I must go and flyer in twenty minutes. The air is warm and wet, like when you put a wet towel over your head and lie in the sun by the pool for too long. Melbourne was supposed to be cold. I didn't buy an expensive jacket just to carry it around with me all the time dammit.

In 2006 I came here. I was at The Trades Hall one night. Cold night. We were all sitting at a long bench table, drinking $4.00 pints of Mountain Goat. There were multiple jazz cigarettes being passed around. A ragtime band played and a gorgeous woman dancing on our table. I remember Xavier, Horabin and I looking at eachother. Awesome. That was a moment. A point. We felt like the lords of our creation.

In 2008 I have had many more of those moments and I haven't even been here a week. The festival is magic. There is no way else to put it. In my previous post I wrote about a perfect moment. The conditions being just right for that moment to exist. Here the conditions are ripe.

A man could live in a place like this. A man could be happy with his lot no matter how large or small.

I have ten minutes left.

I have another week and a half here in the place of Melbourne. I have to admit that at the rate I am going that prospect does exhaust me somewhat. But, there are more exciting things coming. More shows to see. More places to go. Trades Hall awaits. Improv awaits. Krispy Kreme awaits.
I have eight minutes left. But by the time I proof read, pack up and walk down the the Town Hall it will be time to get to work. The conditions are ripe. The Lords are waiting.