at the irish jam i hang around on the edge playing fiddle harmony some unless they let me lead a song. i led a song and it was a bit of a disaster musically because i couldn't sing & play at the same time; i'm still working on that. maybe i'll master that, next time before i go. this time, i'm standing on the outside, trying to jump in occasionally with harmonic chords that sound a bit like backup. i love it; i'm slowly getting better, and even learning a few tunes.

the other fiddle player is the kind of person who learns every note, and doesn't go much for harmony. in other words, it rattles her that i play it before i actually know the tune. she plays well but has no love of performing, especially, i don't see her crack a smile while she performs. i say this mostly because i feel like she should share the stage, and everyone should be enjoying it. i don't know that she doesn't, though, i just feel this uncomfortable feeling. the songs she knows, she knows well. she's been working on it.

the cafe is buddhist in nature; it has buddhas by the bathroom, for example. we have a buddha in our bathroom, too, so this makes me feel in harmony, at least when i use the bathroom. lots of yoga-type things around, yoga mats, yoga this, yoga that. kind of yoga in decoration, but irish in sound. my young son is very comfortable there. he lounges on the couches with his shoes off, upside down, and makes friends with other kids.

they talk about people flying in for the weekend, luckily none came through l.a. where apparently there was a shooting. one came connecticut, new york, chicago, denver? caught in the air somewhere. people text furiously these days, when they're caught in the air. the plane circles. they wonder if they can catch their connecting flight.

the nature of mental illness is, sometimes people snap. a tsa site is as likely as any other place. i was once caught in l.a.x. for an entire day, had to sleep on some bench for a while, but people were really nice to me. they knew who i was, they knew i'd stupidly missed my own flight. they kept an eye on me as i snoozed, the wee hours, 1 to about 4 or whatever, then a whole new l.a.x. day. thought i'd write a book about it someday, but never did. interesting people all over the place, with dull airport looks on their faces. stranded between security and the gate.

halloween was wild. they have this new thing, trunk or treat, where people actually decorate their car trunks, and it's part of the church's obligation to be a community, provide candy for its young, give lots of good comps to kids in costumes. didn't know it had come to this. but the neighborhoods were wild too. at some houses we stood under canopies of trees admiring their landscaping, while whole shows took place at the doorway where they might hope to scare some kid before coughing up the candy. the kids, eventually, got an attitude, give me the candy, skip the entertainment stuff. you know how kids are. 8, 9, 10 they come into the pinnacle of pure greed, focused on their own pieces of almond joy, or whatever. one of our kids had crustacean hands, like a preying mantis, and couldn't carry his own bag. mine literally ran from door to door but got too sweaty in his mask. the neighbors smiled benevolently and coughed up the candy, most of the time.

busy streets, a cool night, a little bit of rain coming through too. but it was saints day, the beauty descended on green grass, changing colors in the leaves, belated parties. mixing halloween and saints day, i'm not sure that's appropriate. but it seems to be happening all over town. costumes and more costumes, then, another wild party, then, a football game. but that's tomorrow, i get ahead of myself. more later......chou