Transistor

I turned the fan on to clear out the air. I needed to get a good undercurrent and flow going. Really just to stir things up a bit. I had been glued to the screen with nothing but saxophone solos blaring through the transistor – all of it creating an edge-of-your-seat kind of intensity that I dearly needed at the time. It was well past closing hours when I went downtown and met up with the old gang from Colfax Street. They were throwing dice and waxing poetic about the subtle sounds that come from the wing movement of sparrows. We hung around raising glasses, talking, chiming in here and there with enlightened insights and observations. It was a grand and glorious time. Everyone got lucky.