* 1995
i was playing in a brightly lit coffeehouse in a mall in danville when a woman
walked up to me and started a conversation. or tried to: i was in the middle of a
song and it’s difficult to carry on a conversation while you’re singing. she wanted
to know, among other things, if i took requests. i tried to discourage her from
speaking by giving her a look that conveyed: “hey, i’m trying to sing a song here,
do you mind?”. she got the hint and opened her purse, pulled out a post-it note,
wrote down the song she wanted to hear, and stuck it on my folder of lyrics that
was sitting on the table next to me.
that was the last time i played at a coffeehouse. the note is still stuck on my folder