Tuesday, being my RV-versary, meant that a celebration was afoot. I think the Dude and I managed a perfect date for us: Music for him, Food for me. That is not to say that he doesn’t eat and I don’t dig on music but we find our pleasures in different forms. I see/hear/taste/smell/feel poetry (?) in food. (Of course I am not alone in this. The shocking amount of cooking/foodie shows, websites, apps, magazines, etc, is a testament to that.) He has an encyclopedia of music in his mind and can hear things I can’t. Where I hear a pretty melody or sweet three-part harmony, he hears that and the under and contra and [insert other-musical-terminology-that-I-don’t-know-that-parallel- food-words-he-doesn’t-know here]. Just different.
We made reservations for five at Yoshi’s for dinner and a show, the show being the absolutely out of this world, ridiculously, outrageously creative and talented Zoe Keating. We had originally planned to go with Tracy from ZenNomads, and Chris and Cherie (Technomadia) but due to Technomadia having a true nomadic moment (they are going to spend the winter in St. John because the opportunity came up and there was no reason not to go), they had to find some buyers for their tickets. Chris posted a notice on some board and [redacted, I’ll call him J.] chimed in that he would LOVE to buy the tickets! So Chris put the Dude and J. in touch, and boom, Tracy, the Dude, J., J’s friend, and I were going to meet at Yoshi’s and then see Zoe.
We had a ridiculously early dinner res (5:30) but that worked perfectly. J and J’s friend walked in just as we did and we were escorted to our table. J is a psychotherapist and wee and big-eyed and just as into music as the Dude. In fact, they have such similar tastes that the Dude threw out a name (Colleen) that J almost fell out over. So there was a good match!
Since Yoshi’s is, surprise, a mostly Japanese restaurant, the menu reflected sushi, sashimi, and mostly shareable small plates. We all ordered two to three dishes a piece but I zeroed in on a roll called Japonese. That roll, though Japanese in origin, and evocative of Central Mexico in taste profile, looks like a Mondrian on the cross-section. (See? Artistry in food.) J’s friend, who is gorgeous and charming and as it turns out is in Shortbus, closed his eyes to enjoy this sushi roll. I quite enjoyed and appreciated his appreciation and enjoyment of it.
After dinner, and with an hour to spare, J and Shortbus excused themselves for a walk, leaving the Dude, Tracy, and I to our own walk. Tracy and I giggled over yet totally appreciated a Kid-n-Play 80s throwback walking with SuperFly dressed in a silvery blue suit, while the Dude checked business on his phone and grabbed a muffin. (Blueberry, fools, not a euphemism.)
Time to get back to Yoshi’s for the show. The three of us got there first, grabbed some snacks and cocktails, J and Shortbus arrived and then it was time for Zoe.
Shocking. She has no definition. In very simple terms, Ms. Keating is a cellist. BUT! A cellist who plays with herself. (Stop it. Don’t be childish.) She is her own orchestra. In that as you are in the audience, watching her play, she lays down a few bars of something and it is recorded and repeated in her computer and through the speakers while she records the next layer, and the next layer, and so on and it builds and you have an orchestra she plays with. It truly rattles my brain and while her CDs are gorgeous you can’t get what you get in person because it is different every time. (She made a comment to same on Tuesday, lamenting that as much as she liked her CDs they were only the moment she recorded them, and that she is sad during some performances because she loved that version of a composition and knows that she can’t repeat it.) I hear movie scores in her music and would not be surprised if her biggest recognition doesn’t come from an Oscar nomination.
The show ended and as we drove home, as Tracy and the Dude conversed, I interrupted to say, “Look at that.” The moon was so beautiful. As we made the few miles home the huge quarter moon was a saturated shiny brick color, and as we continued on to Tracy’s place, the moon grew larger. After we dropped her off and headed back over to the coast to Pacifica, and the moon reflected the fading brick shade and as the moon climbed and grew smaller the color became less reddish but didn’t fade so much as folded over to silvery red and then a silver moon shone.