Fremont Morning

I am at Cafe Vita in Fremont, just down the street from Market Time, near the old place where I used to live above the drum shop of American Music. I can't get on WiFi just yet, so am writing the old fashioned way...pen, paper, scratches, spelling errors. I don't really care about being online today either. I'm taking the day off.

Hip rock stars come in hung-over, smelling like last nights gig, chaotic hair pointing in all directions and in need of strong black coffee and top pot donuts. There are band meetings happening here as the musicians return equipment rented from American Music Rentals next door. Or they are waiting to pick-up equipment for tonights' gig. Extra mike stands, amps, drum kits, chords, lighting equipment, dolly's. You can rent most anything you need here. The baristas look like musicians and finally I get to hear new innovative music. I was afraid that Seattle was trapped in the classic rock/hipster rock era from way back.

Here the tunes are interesting techno-rock-import-jammering in cosmic time. I love it. It feels right. Hundreds of Subaru's wagons fly down Fremont Avenue loaded with dogs, children, sports equipment. People desperately rushing to relax on a cold, overcast Saturday morning. Some stop in leaving the car running while fetching the hot beverages we all need to keep warm.

Across the street is an empty store front. Above is an apartment with bay windows. A black haired man, kelly green sweater, black turtleneck, sits writing at his computer. Occasionally we both look up at the same time. Is he writing about me sitting in the Cafe Vita window? What would he write? Dark haired woman with a laptop at her side, throwing tarot cards dressed in black turtleneck sweater, black skirt, black tights, black socks, black loafers, purple scarf drinking hot coffee writing about nothing in general. I am dressed the same way as when I lived here so many lifetimes ago and playing with jazz trios. It is as if I have been in a time machine and returned only today I feel different.

Eight rings adorn my perfect fingers as I write. My favorite is a large skull and cross-bones with yellow stones studded around the skull's forehead and top of the bones that I wear on my forefinger. It was a gift from the place where I got my latest leather jacket.

More people enter the cafe. A cold gust swoops in as a reminder that summer is a long way away for the people of Seattle. No sunny skies today. No cabana boys employed here. Only blustery winds and strong black coffee.

So much love,
All the way from here....
Linda