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99 - The buskers.

joneworlds@mailbox.org

I rode along with Pete and Del into town the other day. Pete got a tip on some cheap covid vaccine, recently-expired stuff that someone scooped from the trash at an Amazon clinic. Worth checking out for sure. Pete's contact is kind of cagey so Del and I wander off while he meets them. Don't want to spook 'em.

Anyways, I wander over to the main drag to get a taco from the truck there. And I figure I'll see some music because there's a pretty decent busker scene there, these days. Today there's this trio I never saw before. It's a tall white haired old lady, an extremely short southeast-asian man, and this fairly young centaur. They're all three dressed in these bright orange jumpsuits like they just escaped from prison or something. The man and the woman are singing some wordless la-la-la melody in perfect harmony, and the man is strumming and plucking on some ancient guitar. And the centaur meanwhile is occasionally bellowing something over top of this. And I'm thinking at first he is just being an ass, but he's hitting his mark right on time every time, and I realize this is exactly as they intended. It's the most bizarre act I've ever seen, and I watch so long and am so rapt that I drop by taco and I don't even care. Some dog eventually comes by and eats it, and that's okay.

And when they're done their songs, they pack up and jump in this old army jeep without a word, driving off even though I want to talk. Sometimes I wonder how a band like that finds each other. I wonder if I'll ever see them again.

Next - 100 - So useful.

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