Now it's tomorrow

Well, shit. (1. I started cussing around age 10 because I thought I was too much of a goody goody.) It's much later than I had planned on getting home. Went to see a friend's band's gig tonight, they played at 9 pm, hung around 'til the second band started and really enjoyed them so stayed for the entire set. Then I was talking to someone else about music stores and instruments and happened to look at the clock and it was later than I thought so I said I had to leave. Walked out, saw the bus, ran for it and have just now gotten home. (2. Favorite venue to see live bands in Seattle is the Sunset Tavern in Ballard, 2nd favorite would probably be the Tractor Tavern, also in Ballard. Advantage of being on bus lines, and have seen a lot of great shows there.) Both bands (I saw) tonight were great, and I was really enjoying being there, and didn't see a good reason to leave earlier.

When I got off work, I went to look for a kimono for the scene. I ended up buying a large children's size because it was in a more vibrant color (and cheaper). The adult ones were pastels, and I don't think she wears pastels, and I look horrible in them. The one I bought is fuschia. It smells like incense. Then I went to look for something for Father's Day, and while thumbing through a cookbook, suddenly became super melancholy. Like a deep, aching homesickness. At the time I thought maybe it was for that country that has a bit of my soul still attached, the one I won't be going to any time soon, I don't have the money nor a compelling reason to go. And I thought what a tiny corner of aching that must be compared to what millions of people feel who will never be able to go home, for as many reasons. It lasted for a couple of hours. Of course, by the time I left the show, totally gone. That's the beauty of music. Peace.