Below ground zero

So the live blog lives. Funny to even think of it that way; it’s just a blog, electronic words, not god, not theory, not even soul.

All has to be interpreted. I am leaning with my shoulder against the wall I the Mutiny Radio Cafe in the Midsion. It is too hot to wear my jacket outside, and I have no liquor to help me ignore the rest of the world.

A plunk and twang sing from Higgs’s banjo inside. I can hear the music through the mail slot cut into the wall near the front door. I have been denied entry by my own doing. It would be rude to kick the door and demand the performance stop because I was selfish and operating under my own calendar. But that’s what we all do. All of us. It’s a paradox that can not be avoided.

Higgs continues to play.