on roncesvalles there’s a cafe that also bakes bread and I get sourdough there sometimes and there’s a tall guy with a red beard often playing music that I recognize even though it’s obscure. one time I walked in and strangers by the kinks was playing. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t help myself and blurted it out, hey this is strangers by the kinks and he smiled and nodded his head since we’re all in masks behind barriers but it was very enthusiastic nodding of the head. and then I said do you know it’s in five? and then he stopped and turned his head sideways to try counting what was left of the song despite other people in line wanting to order their fancy coffees and then his body language showed a certain realization or agreement and he understood the fiveness too, the song had now been reinvented for him just because of this random moment of chance. seemed to me I deserved the sourdough for free but the gods of personal delusion were ambivalent (they are regularly) and he asked how are you going to pay for that.

another time I walked in and heard do you know the way to san jose, and when I got to the counter I said do you notice anything unique while pointing at the speakers above us. he shrugged and said it’s a great song. yes, but listen to the kit. he cocked his head sideways then shrugged his shoulders, there’s no cymbals I said gleefully and his eyebrows went higher and his head started rocking side to side.

so yesterday when I entered and recognized him playing something by the grateful dead I thought ok, hat trick. and at the counter I said this is the dead right? no he said it’s joe ely. when I was in blue rodeo we opened a show one time for joe ely. I thought for a second I could regain my status as strange customer who always has crazy details about whatever’s playing in the store but decided instead I should suck it up, enjoy being wrong, it isn’t the dead and I’ll take that bread.