Sunday, September 28th, 2003

We’re at a large dinner table having a meal. I’m there with my mom, Tom, some other friends and a few people we don’t know very well. The table is strewn with half-eaten plates of food, including crab, green beans, cauliflower and other stuff. A couple of young women (whom we don’t know too well) finally come to the table to eat but the food is nearly gone. They don’t seem too into the food. I go to the coffee table and get a bowl of green beans to refill the plate on the dining table. My mom is having a raw shrimp. A friend of hers is talking to her about it. I’m peeling a cooked shrimp, pulling off the head.

Tome picks up a CD and asks whose it is. “Here, I’ll just play it for you.” He hits play on a small tape recorder and we hear an archetypal 3-chord blues riff. We laugh and I say, “That could be anything!”