Tonight I braved the elements to visit the 42nd Street Oyster Bar in downtown Raleigh, North Carolina. I was hoping to bump into folks I knew there. Hell, they might have been there. If they were I wouldn’t have known since I was running late, the bar was a lot larger than I would have expected, and I’ve realized for a few weeks that I really need to get new glasses. While I would have enjoyed company in this pursuit, everything was all good, as this type of activity was still consistent with my newfound quest to get out of the house more often.
I decided to find a place at the bar and make conversation with nearby persons while waiting for the band to get started. The bartender and the young lady next to me recommended one of the draft pilsners, so I had two of them. It had the oddest taste, kind of like peas. No, not pee (or piss); it tasted like peas. The odd veggie taste was a strange comfort since most beers taste like how I would imagine piss to taste.
I expected the band to start at 10:00pm, but they seemed to start somewhat earlier than that. They looked kind of like Weezer, but must have been some sort of southern rock band. Weird. Their first song was called Southern Cross, by Crosby, Stills & Nash. Part of the song goes like this:
When you see the Southern Cross for the first time
You understand now why you came this way.
‘Cause the truth you might be runnin’ from is so small.
But it’s as big as the promise - The promise of a comin’ day.
That is where I started to notice things getting strange. Maybe things had been strange earlier in the day (like when presidential candidate Ron Paul came in second in the Nevada Republican primary), only this was my first realization of how strange they were. Last night Brien Barbour mentioned he would be performing Southern Cross at an upcoming audition (see my previous post from January 18th, “Brien Barbour at the Lotus Leaf Cafe“). Anyway, I decided to leave during the second song, the Marshall Tucker Band’s Can’t You See. I was almost inspired — about what, I can’t remember. But the spirits seemed to guide me nonetheless.
So I was out-and-about in downtown Raleigh, going to the store to pick up some snacks, the gas station to get lottery tickets (with one minute to spare), and finishing up by hitting the dollar menu at McDonald’s. Finally, I got home and pulled up the lyrics and began to reflect on Southern Cross, a song which with I really wasn’t too familiar. As I finished reading the lyrics, I got an email from Brien. Weird, huh? I hope this is a good omen for Brien’s upcoming performance.
I’m sure I’m missing something about the importance of this day. Even so, I just decided to fill my soul with thanks and open myself up to the experience. Maybe it’s all been teeny-tiny coincidences — or maybe it’s been mystical shit that’s screaming “Wake up!” at me. I’ll just pinch myself in case there’s something going on besides pea-beer intoxication.