During the weekend, I traded hiking trails and paddles for something a little different, a night of live music, good drinks, and the kind of Seattle energy that makes it hard to call it an early night. There’s something about live music that always seems to reset the brain. You walk in carrying whatever you’ve been thinking about all week, find a spot in the crowd, and somewhere between the first song and the last, you realize you’ve stopped thinking about everything else.
I spent the evening listening to live music, talking with people between sets, and taking in the atmosphere. No notebook. No writing schedule. No trying to turn every moment into a story. Well… maybe just a little. Because of course, there were still a few interesting characters in the room. That’s one of the things I love about Seattle’s music scene. You can walk into a venue not knowing anyone and leave having heard a dozen stories without ever asking for them.
By the end of the night, I was tired, my ears were ringing just a little, and I had a song stuck in my head. I’d call that a successful Saturday. Sometimes a writer needs inspiration. Sometimes he just needs loud music.
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