It looks like we're in for one more day of snow. How bizarre and surreal snow seems here, out of character, like a bad play.

There are high clouds, beige overcast, with a crack of light at the horizon. I'm feeling less misanthropic than yesterday, now that I am home, fed, showered and rested. Downtown puts me in an edgy mood, with its crackheads and crowds on the buses.

I can't wait for more snow.

When I walked into the C&P Coffee Company, I was pleasantly surprised to see a new guitarist playing. I am not sure of his name, he had a couple cds out for sale, and a tip pitcher for money. He's a young guy, tall, in his twenties and he has style.

Lean, long-legged and rangy, at first I thought of a more sedate Jim Morrison, the one played by Val Kilmer in the movie I just watched for the first time this week, The Doors. He played spacey,trippy electronic, amped guitar, with no vocals.

His style seems to be long, repetititve instrumentals, very introspective. For the most part, the crowd was ignoring him, and the tip jar lean, but along with one or two people, I was rapt in my attention.

The young guitarist played several long instrumentals, starting with repetitive melodies, while eventually his left hand began, seemingly of its own accord, to play more complex harmonies while his right kept on, keeping the rhythm.

He was tight-lipped with concentration, and perhaps a little annoyance at the loud, raucous crowd, many of them women (notoriously bad tippers), who chattered like magpies during his set. Such is the fate of the cafe musician, one or two attentive listeners and a crowd of indifferent chatterers.

when I left, I left a dollar, and looked up and smiled, he nodded his recognition, as much for my attention, I hope as for the small offering. (the best I can do this lean month). I went out into the snow, small flakes beginning to form on my coat and hair. It's snowing again. How strange.

A block away, a silver pickup spun its wheels uselessly on an icy side street, trying to turn onto California, without much success. I went over to offer my help, which the young man accepted, and while a young woman, who may or may not have been with him, or like me, was offering help to a stranger, he and I pushed, while she steered, and we cautiously moved the pickup onto the main boulevard. I wished him well, and he wished me the same and I went on my way and he on his. That felt good, to be useful to a stranger.