in a big city, somewhat unfamiliar, suddenly aware that I was supposed to play a gig in Aztec, New Mexico in 30 minutes. My saxophone was home, missing a pad, and with no reeds. I finally found a music store, small in the front, expanding inside to include Ken Sanders and his rare book shop. When I finally found a tenor sax reed I started sucking on it and looked for another. There was none to be found. I went to the back and asked Ken. He took me to a side wall where there were little cabinets and pulled out a very dark reed with what looked like a little soul patch. I thought it was weird and beautiful. I took both reeds up to the counter. The woman behind it pointed out that the first reed required a special mouthpiece, which I didn't have. I left with only the other reed, already late for the gig. Alex Caldiero was outside waiting for me. He was late for the same gig. We set off . . .
Anxious, I think, about the things I want to do this summer —Zarko's and my books, Sam's and my book, the barbed wire book, Immortal For Quite Some Time — obviously too much and too little time.
If I had remembered, instead, in my sleep, these vistas from last night, I might not have worried so much.