Occasionally I’ll wear dark blue jeans with my coat and tie. It offends the bartender’s sense of decorum, which is not my intent. I need to feel casual every so often, plus it was also a full moon, by my examination of the East sky’s low-hanging orb, so I wanted to be comfortable in anticipation of loons and trouble (actually, the official full moon was the night before at 8:16pm). Over the night we had a small crowd which included, a repeat-visit couple I like, a gentleman from Spain who came for blues that I convinced to stay for a few songs, and three young women initially deterred by the cover charge that I allowed in because they wanted to have only one drink and move on. One of the trio later asked if we’d have live music the next day since she wants to bring her boyfriend here — so, the investment will pay off. Somewhere in the midst of the jazz quartet’s Freddie Hubbard, Super Blue… Thelonius Monk, Blue Monk… and Sonny Rollins, Doxy… the clock struck 11:11pm with today being 11-11-11. The band jumped into Auld Lang Syne as a way to honor the oneness in this one and only alliterative blip in time. Good old Robert Burns is likely winking from his Scottish grave upon seeing his 1788 poem emerge with yet another new use.
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