OK - so here it is, after one in the morning in the middle of the night.I swear to God I was getting ready to carry my philosophical thoughts to bed. It's very, very cold out there - six degrees.
Just as I was finishing off the last of my tonic and OJ I heard a band playing "Joy To The World" - from what seemed like right across the street.
They sounded pretty good too - at least a well-thought out version of the carol.
A quick look between the blinds let me see them on the front stoop of the Eastland hotel at the end of the block - a small crowd of about 12 people, including a big bass drum.
This led to a short, sharp shock of confusion - indecision frosted with cluelessness. I wanted to get out there, I wanted to record them, because it was an extraordinary thing I heard past midnight on a special night.
Did I mention it was six degrees? And a wind. No snow yet but you can sense it up there, gathering its strength.
Well, it seemed to me that if they were crazy enough to play I'd be crazy enough to try to chase them down.
That thought led me into getting layered up, switching trousers to the heavy cords I'd worn today, double-sox and Bean boots, a toque for my head and I was off, camera in my pocket.
And of course, they weren't anywhere to be seen - not even footprints in the snow.
Nothing at the Congress Street corner - just a couple of folks out walking home from the bars. Or walking TO the next bar - can't tell in this weather.
Still the strange, expectant, magical atmosphere of the night led me on - around the block, looking in windows, waving at the baristas as they cleaned up. No band.
I did see very pretty fairy lights on the building opposite my apartment. Took a couple of pictures.
And now my melancholy is gone completely. Just want to go to bed and see what happens tomorrow - or what happens later today.
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