Matthew Brookshire

Yesterday, at end of work day the Contessa asks if I would like to go see music with her. Would like to see music but tell the Contessa that If I don't go swimming today I'm going to turn into a puddle of fat. The Contessa says that is no trouble at all. Show is at nine. We can meet at the place. Call Dave who agrees to go home to walk Jenny and then to come back to the city again (side conversation entered into in which Dave proposeds hiring dog walker and hear self saying in shrill tones that We are Not going to hire a Nanny for our Dog--for rest of evening am revisited by memory of tone of voice which causes me to feel like should step in front of subway at earliest convenience. But in moment, Dave disregards tone and says that the dog walker is acutally a dog runner. Jenny could get some exercise. Tell him that, as he well knows, Jenny doesn't like to run. At this Dave concedes but says that it would still be nice to be able to not have to go running back and forth to Brooklyn. This leads to brand new conversation about Moving Back to the City. Get off the phone much, much later, feeling exhausted but interested in new life in Manhattan. The Contessa says that the show starts at nine but that the place is tiny and one needs to get there early so that One Can Get a Seat. Tell her that I will get there early. Emerge from the gym and see that it is already eight oh five. Gobble down piece of pizza. See that if take taxi will not make it to show on time. Procure taxi with no trouble. Taxi seems to have time travelling capabilites because find self at Rockwood Music Hall (the venue) at eight thirty on the nose. The Contessa, and Dave, naturally nowhere to be seen. Get glass of wine and, as the previous singer not yet done, sit in only available seat. Seat at extreme front of room, practically on lap of singer. Next half hour spent with neck at very uncomfortable angle, mouth fixed in what can only imagine is a very fake smile of encouragement to singer, whose breath I can smell. Mind not calmed by the music. Have impassioned thoughts about the troubles one causes oneself when one gets every place early. The minutes stretch on and become the length of weeks. At nine, exactly, Dave and the Contessa arrive. They have very little interest in my travails. Thankfully, the musician we intended to see starts up (young singer and songwriter by the name of Matthew Brookshire.) Am entranced by music and do not want the show to end, but it does, much to quickly. At bar afterward, the Contessa says that she has a little crush on Matthew Brookshire. Tell Dave, Don't Take COffence, but I have a crush on Matthew Brookshire too. A small one. Dave says he doesn't mind, he'd kiss him in a heartbeat. At this, feelings get very badly hurt and pout until realize that neither the Contessa nor Dave is going to acknowledge pouting, join in their conversation about piano lessons.