Am out in Sacramento, Calif with the Midiri brothers for the big jazz festival ("Jubilee"). We arrived last night. I'm rooming (at the Sheraton grand downtown - nice) with Gary (the bass player). I told him I'd wait for him to go out to breakfast. It's 8:30 am, and I've been up for 3 hours. I finally gave in to in-room coffee. Gary is stirring and snorting more. Perhaps he'll get up soon. Our first set is at 1pm today, then it's off to the races.

The trip out yesterday helped me with something with which I've been struggling. It's been some years since I've flown, and I've lost somewhat the sense of it. It "dawned" on me that to travel to an event like this (with 5+ hours in the air, check-ins, layovers, delays, and whatever else) is to, essentially, give up a day. Ouch. A day without routine is like a day without imposed structure is like is like a day without routine... I've already acknowledged my "trapped-ness" (at least to myself). Yesterday gave me a Sabbath opportunity, which I (eventually) decided not to resist.

I wonder if/when Gary will ever wake up (he's silent now).