Pocket Dispatch From After the Show

Tension simmers in a circle of ~~insecure~~ artists standing outside the Metro after a concert, smoking, each envying one another’s overlapping achievements and licking wounds from mutual rejection, or inferiority, real or imagined.

Each of them feels lonely and unworthy in his own way. On the way home one or two may decide he would have been better off staying home in bed. Still others will feel recharged and restored for having gone out and engaged with the city’s music scene and his friends in it. One or two will feel both of these.

“Time to leave.” The concert had just ended, and a security guard was waving me toward the stairs. I estimate she was 5 foot, 3 inches, and weighed 100 pounds, and I wondered what she would do if I refused to leave. But her tactical uniform suggested answers I wasn’t looking for. The rest of the security crew was wearing black street clothes, but if I recall correctly, she had a military style beret.

Date

2022-11-09 23:09

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