First Constant

I've been dreaming about a couple places I've never been to.

One is a quiet bar that is the essence of all those quiet, smoky lil' backroom bars where tired men go to drown their sorrows, there's a lone pianist in the corner, and the bartender always know your name.

It's a small lil' bar... Maybe that's an exaggeration,... a medium sized bar, with a raised circular dais in the corner upon which a lone piano sits. It's a pretty piano... shiny and black, but it's sound has the mellow tone of a piano that's well-used and well tuned. A quiet Chinese man sits at it's keys,... Idly playing any tune that comes to his mind. Little shimmies of music. An occasional smooth tune, a couple of wistful, sad melodies, and the odd jagged riff that comes up.

It is his mood that sets the mood for the place.It feels like a stream, with occasional ripples and currents that draw you in. His constantly moving fingers set the backbeat of the room.And this was the first in my series of dreams... it was like my mind was establishing the constant of the room. That quiet little Chinese man in the corner... letting his mind meld with the music..