The air was thick with cigarette smoke and the aroma of old scotch. The neighboring tables in the bar were half filled with people stewing in their own problems. Though there were those that sat with their glasses to lips listening to the performers cover of Ill let you know by David Hazeltine. It wasnt bad, a half second slower than the original but not bad at all. I could tell they had practiced a lot. It set the mood for the bar nicely. Old wooden stools with an old oak finished counter top. The tables were oak and ceder. It kept the bugs away, which everyone enjoyed. I was surprised by this dive, it was well hidden and not many knew about it, yet it was able to stay afloat with the small bits of profit that came in. I was curious as to what made them so successful, but not curious enough as to ask questions. The audience applauded as the band ended their song. It looked as though the members of the band werent used to the praise. Must be rather new to the gig scene. Though if they were new they didnt let stage fright or anxiety bother them. They bowed and moved on to the next song; The Nearness of You by Billy Charlap. These kids werent bad at all. I took a taste of my scotch and hung my head, tapping my foot to the drum and my left hand fingers to the keys of the piano. I dont know how to play, couldnt hold a rhythm if you gave me a bucket. But I can tap anything to a preset beat for a couple seconds before messing up, and thats good enough for me. Time pressed on into the late hours of the evening. The performers had swapped over to another band, one that opened with Blue in Green by Miles Davis. I think I chose a good night to find this dive. If I shut my eyes I could almost swear it was Mr. Davis up there himself. The band was good, real good. Reaching into my pocket I pulled free a cigarette. Tapping the butt on the table top I placed it at home between my lips. Pulled out my matchbook and struck one of the matches I pulled free. My inhale was long and deep. Im told Im a chain smoker. I dont see what they mean. I smoke cigarettes, not chains. I stare at my third or fourth glass of scotch, my eyes look glazed in the smoky bar mirror. I contemplate not finishing the scotch and head out into the rainy Monday night. I look to the door, see my coat hanging on the rack and notice a few holes in the back of it. I then take a gander around the room. The band starts playing Nicholas Paytons The Last Goodbye. Another dead on performance. I sigh and look at some of the tables. The smoke in the room must be thick enough to cut with a knife cause I cant see anything but silhouettes. I shrug and wince from back pain. I reach for my cup to find it full. Might as well, I thought, and took a pull from it. No sense in heading home. I mumbled aloud, Too far gone now... --------------------- Something I thought up while listening to coffee table jazz songs. Hope you enjoy.
Posted on: Sun, 06 Apr 2014 23:25:02 +0000
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