Viv was dining in the tender confines of happy hour, so I placed a few calls and wandered down to the specimen of declining urbanity known as Broadway, the cracked jewel of Capitol Hill.

I ended up dining at a small Pakistani establishment, and when I left, I was surprised to hear someone really busting out on a sax. He was standing on the corner across from the Starbucks that faces the newly-remodeled Broadway Market (which now houses a two-story full-city-block grocery store, ex-Seattleites may be interested to know).

I had just gotten set to record the sax when he wound up and fell into deep conversation with a woman who appeared fascinated, her small dog in tow. After much intent gazing and some note-scribbling, she crossed the street. He gazed after her for a moment, saxophone lowered.

He turned to face the stream of people passing on the sidewalk and lifted his ax.

“Harlem Nocturne” erupted from the instrument’s bell. Believing that I had previously activated the audio recorder on the phone I am posting this from, I crossed the street, excited.

After several minutes and a few muffed notes, the musician wound the tune up. As he placed his sax into his battered hardshell case, I walked by and gave him a five, saying “thank you,” reflecting my appreciation not solely of his playing, but also the beauty and drama of his musical choice following the interaction I had observed.

“God bless you,” was the unexpectedly heartfelt response. I watched a moment later as he boarded the number 60 bus.

A bookstore stop later (new Vollmann! The Men Who Stare at Goats!) I was excitedly mulling the prospect of converting my recording to mp3 and blogging it in the context of this entry. I had decided to head home as an economizAtion measure when I ran into my coworker Diana.

Her pals were playing at Julia’s, the former Ernie Steele’s space, and she was speaking to them outside. I excitedly tried to play my recording, but alas. I had been mistaken, and had actually failed to record the song !

I mentioned to Diana that I had been looking for a place to write, and to my surprise, that’s what Julia’s has proved to be – this entry was written and posted during her friends’ first set.

Now I should probably call Viv.