The Day I Knew Everything
Is the information we need always available to us, if we just allow it to come?
photo by the author
Brooklyn was lovely that Sunday morning in autumn. I was packing my equipment into the car to go play a gig at the hoity-toity St. Regis Hotel in Manhattan. This gig was sure to be a pain, because not only was the bandleader a control freak, but also we had to arrive early for a rehearsal of some special music the bride had requested.
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