So there I am in Back Bay, playing something fiddly, when a woman in a bright orange Hawaiian shirt approaches me and asks, "Are you the Accidental Fiddler?"

"Um...yes."

"I love your blog!"

"Thanks!"

So hello there, friendly individual; I really liked your shirt, and if I seemed confused, it's because it takes a bit for my brain to switch from "playing mode" to "interaction with fellow human" mode. It was nice to meet a reader who wasn't someone I already know!

*~*~*~*

I didn't realize that, when Red Sox games are cancelled, they broadcast that in the T stations; I wonder if it's all of them or just the ones closest to Fenway Park?

All I know is I heard it about 97 times in Back Bay, and I saw a number of mildly disgruntled individuals in Sox apparel, and if you're not going to be spending the $4.50 on a hot dog, how 'bout dropping a bit of what you were going to spend in my case? No? Oh. OK then.

*~*~*~*

The performer's area at Back Bay is right next to one of the giant trash cans, which doesn't bother me, except today when a disheveled individual came up, rummaged around in it, found a discarded beverage, poured it into his own cup, and drank it down. Dude. That can't be sanitary. Also, dude. *shudders*

*~*~*~*

Rain rain, go away
For farmers, you may be OK
But Fiddler wants outside to play
Instead of underground all day.

(I'm a musician, dammit, not a poet.)