Friday, May 26, 2017

901 Story - Cookie Shaped Boots




Thanks to technical difficulties in the showing of a classic film starring Marlon Brando, I instead learned about the role Memphis played (and still plays) in the film industry. After the engaging lecture, I felt the need to enjoy a cookie, and so drove to the coffeehouse that stays open late and houses a drink called Funky Monkey. When I reached the place, the nice barista sold me a freshly baked cookie the size of a saucer, and so I found a place to sit and enjoy the warm goodness. Something caught my eye and as I looked up, I noticed a man tuning his guitar. He wore a wide brim hat and looked like a rough hipster version of Harry Connick Jr.. I was immediately interested as he introduced himself as Frankie Boots. Born in California, now living in New Orleans was his line. He sang of being an only child, living in California, being in love and being hurt with a voice that seemed older than his supposed years. At one point, he dedicated a song to me about a bar stool far away and I wanted to look away, yet found myself staring at him even more so. After an hour of solid playing, he took a break and sold his music to anyone who wanted to take him everywhere. He asked for my name and I felt a connection, one that creatives get when they are able to find each other amid the sea of white noise and "fitting in". When I finally left, glowing on the inside and out, I waved goodbye to him as he sat rolling his cigarettes outside of the coffee shop. Maybe our paths will cross again - I wanted to take a photo of his guitar and the soul that possessed it.

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